The misadventures of Voldemort and his DeathEaters
by kateandsomebooks
Summary: Voldemort tries to be evil, but his Death Eaters just keep on embarrassing him. Includes Barty and his obession with practical jokes, Rabastan and his fear of the trivial, Snape and his constant exhasperation of all of them, and many more!
1. The Death Eaters go on a picnic

"Oh I do love a nice picnic," Lord Voldemort said as he and his Death Eaters sat on a picnic blanket in a field.

"Would you like some strawberry jam, my lord?" Dolohov asked.

"Oh yes please," Voldemort said as his minion passed him a sandwhich. He took a large bite out of it and let out a high pitched scream.

"DOLOHOV!" He screamed.

"Y-yes, my lord?" Dolohov cowered.

"You forgot to cut off the crusts! CRUCIO!" Dolohov ducked and the spell hit Peter Pettigrew who screamed in agony.

"Oh do shut up Wormtail," Voldemort said. "You're ruining the tranquility." He lifted the curse and sighed.

"Where's the water?" He asked. Barty Crouch gave a secret smirk as he handed his master the bottle of mineral water. Peter saw him and gasped.

"My lord, no!" He dived in front of the water and drank it all down. He promptly turned into an owl. The Death Eaters and Voldemort burst out laughing.

"Oh Barty," Voldemort said. "Such a practical joker!"

After lunch, they spent the entirety of the afternoon playing volleyball with the owl.


	2. The Death eaters play hide and seek

Hi dudes! Thanks for reviewing! Sorry, forgot to mention before, I don't own Harry Potter. Duh.

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**The Death Eaters play Hide and Seek**

"I hate the rain," Rodolphus Lestrange announced one very wet and rainy day. The other Death Eaters in the room all had to agree. Lord Voldemort had locked himself in his office and refused to come out and they were all stuck in the living room with nothing to do except eat the remains of Lucius Malfoy's Victoria sponge, and none of them felt up to doing that. So they had to be content with watching the rain pour down the window.

"What shall we do?" Dolohov asked glumly.

"I could make cookies?" Lucius suggested.

"NO!" The others cried.

"We could play hide and seek!" Macnair said.

"Yes!" They all agreed. Snape rolled his eyes.

"Oh for heaven's sake," he sighed. "I'll go and ask the dark lord if he would like to play." He got off his chair and walked off along the corridor.

"My lord?" He asked nervously, knocking on the door of lord Voldemort's office. "We were wondering if you would like to play hide and seek?"

"Yes!" Voldemort cried, bursting form the room.

"Er, what were you doing in there?" Snape asked.

"I was e-mailing Dumbledore," his master replied. "It'll take him all night to read them!" He cackled insanely.

"You both have computers?" Snape asked.

"Of course." Voldemort said, as if it was obvious.

Snape decided not to ask any more questions, and instead sighed and walked back to the living room.

"Who's it?" He asked as they walked in.

"Peter!" Barty cried at once.

"But I'm always it!" Peter whined, turning to Voldemort. "My lord!"

"Wormtail if you refuse to be it I will crucio you so hard your clothes will hurt," Voldemort said sharply. "Count to one hundred, NOW!"

Peter gave a squeak of terror and began to count. By the time he had reached twenty, the only ones left in the room were Snape and Voldemort.

"Quick, Snape!" Voldemort said. "Where shall we hide?"

"The wardrobe in Dolohov's bedroom!" Snape said.

"Perfect!" Voldemort cried, and they ran upstairs.

"Hurry!" Snape said as they climbed into the wardrobe. they closed the door and Voldemort cackled.

"He'll never find us in here!" He said.

"He will if you keep talking," Snape whispered.

"What's this dress doing in here?" Voldemort asked, drawing out a frilly pink dress from among the numerous black robes.

"Ha!" Snape said. "Dolohov keeps a dress in his wardrobe! I'll never let him hear the last of this!"

"Snape..." Voldemort said slowly.

"Yes my lord?"

"Doesn't it seem a bit...cold in here to you?"

They turned around, there was a dim light that seemed to be coming from the back of the wardrobe.

"You go first," Voldemort said.

"You go first," Snape replied.

"You go first!"

"I'll go first!"

"I'll go first!"

"Ha!" Snape said. Voldemort scowled at him and walked towards the light. They stepped out of what seemed to be the back of the wardrobe into a large forest covered in snow. A black lampost was nearby.

"DOLOHOV!" Voldemort yelled.

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Hoped you liked that! Review please! More misadventures to come!


	3. The Death Eaters go on a peace rally

Again, don't own HP. Thanks for reviewing dudes!

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**The Death Eaters go on a Peace Rally**

It was a quiet and peaceful morning in the Death Eater's house. This was very odd, for usually there was some sort of noise; either Peter was crying because Barty had stolen his teddy bear, Bellatrix was yelling at Lucius for taking up too many shelves in the bathroom with his hair care products, or Lord Voldemort was cackling insanely for some reason or another. So, whilst Severus Snape sat at the breakfast table, he savoured the peace and tranquillity, for he knew that very soon it would all be over.

In fact, it was over very soon, for no sooner had Snape reached for the sugar bowl, than a loud scream came from upstairs and Voldemort came thundering down the stairs followed soon after by his minions.

"What is it my lord, ARGH!" Snape cried as he looked up at his master to see a hideous creature in a hot pink dressing gown, a shower cap on its head and a sleeping mask over its eyes. "My lord!" Snape exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

Voldemort ripped the face mask from his eyes and scowled at Snape.

"I _was _enjoying a nice lie in," he said. "Until someone's screaming woke me up. Who isn't here?"

"Er, Lucius," Snape said, looking at the other Death Eaters in the room. "And Barty."

"Well that's it then," Voldemort said. "CROUCH!"

"Good morning, my lord." Came a voice from behind Voldemort. The dark lord jumped and turned to see his 'most faithful' minion leaning against the door frame.

"What have you done to Malfoy?" He asked.

"Me?" Barty said innocently. "Nothing. You might want to take a look at his hair, though…"

Before the dark lord could ask any more questions, Lucius Malfoy came screaming into the room with a towel around his head in teddy bear pyjamas. The Death Eaters were speechless, except for Barty who gave a suppressed snigger. Lucius turned and fixed him with a glare.

"Look, my lord!" He cried. "Look what has happened to my hair!" He took the towel from around his head and his hair fell out of it in cascades of vibrant green.

Nobody could help themselves, they all burst out laughing.

"Stop laughing!" He said. "Stop it! Who did this?"

Everyone stopped laughing and pointed at Barty.

"BARTY!" Lucius screamed, the sniggering minion shot off with Lucius close behind.

"Shall we punish him, my lord?" Dolohov asked after they had left. He turned to Voldemort, who was nearly in tears, holding Lucius's conditioner bottle.

"What is it?" Snape asked, taking the bottle and reading the label. "_This product was tested on puppies from the St Theodore's laboratory._"

Voldemort burst into uncontrollable tears.

"What kind of company admits that?" Snape asked himself.

"Who cares!" Voldemort said. "I shall seek out this company, free the puppies and protest against their inhumane animal testing unit. And we're going to do it now!"

"Er, OK," Snape said. "I'll go and rescue Barty then, shall I?"

One hour later and the Death Eaters arrived outside the animal testing laboratories, brandishing signs and shouting loudly.

"Stop animal testing!" Voldemort cried. "Come on everyone!"

"Stop animal testing." The others said flatly.

"That's the spirit!"

It wasn't too long before they attracted attention from behind enemy lines. A group of doctors came out of the building and approached the protesters with caution.

"At last!" Voldemort said.

"Can we help you?" The doctors said.

Voldemort was aghast.

"Are you blind?" He said. "Yes you can help me, by setting free all of the puppies!"

"The puppies…" One of the doctors hesitated.

"He means the experiments 013 and 666." The other doctor said.

"Oh." The first doctor said, with a slight smirk. "You can have them."

"Well…thank you!" Voldemort said, slightly taken aback at how easy that had been. "We'll give them a good home."

"I'm sure you will." The doctor said with a knowing look. He clicked his fingers and two bodyguards came out leading two sweet looking Labrador puppies on leads. They past the leads to Voldemort.

"Thank you!" Voldemort said, pleased that he had saved these two poor animals. "Well, we'll be off then."

They walked off a little way.

"Aren't they lovely." Dolohov said. "Can I stroke one?"

"Of course, Dolohov," Voldemort said. "Stroke away."

The Death Eater bent down to stroke the puppy and gave a loud scream, the apparently harmless puppy had taken a firm grip on Dolohov's hand with it's teeth. Dolohov swung it round his head and it let go. It went soaring through the air and landed a few metres away. It stood up, growled at them, and came charging towards them. Voldemort dropped the lead of the other one and the Death Eaters fled from the two maniac puppies, making a mental note never again to protest against animal testing.

More coming soon! Read and review!


	4. The Death Eaters open a hotel

Don't own Harry Potter. If I did I wouldn't be here.

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**The Death Eaters open a hotel**

"Tell me," Snape said. "Why are we doing this again?"

"What?" Voldemort asked.

"Opening a hotel." Snape replied.

"Because," Voldemort replied calmly. "It will be a five star hotel. All of the great wizards will come flocking to it! Then once they're inside, WHAMO!" He crushed one of Lucius Malfoy's cookies.

"Do you really think," Snape said, picking up an engraved golden plaque. "That famous wizards will visit a hotel entitled _'The Voldemort hotel, we give our guests a proper greeting' _?"

"Well if you're going to pick holes in every little detail…"

"Our secretary is Wormtail?" Snape said, astounded.

"No one else wanted the job." Voldemort shrugged.

Snape sighed and walked away.

"Presenting," Voldemort said. "The Voldemort hotel!" He cut the ribbon and the Death Eaters all clapped loudly.

"How exactly did you turn this into a hotel?" Snape asked, gesturing at the Riddle house in front of them.

"I'm the dark lord," Voldemort replied. "I can do anything! Now everyone to work!"

The Death Eaters ran into the house followed by Snape who hadn't been assigned any particular position, so decided to explore the house. Deciding to start with the bottom floor, he walked into the cloakroom that had been transformed magically into a secretary's office. Peter Pettigrew was sitting at a computer typing away.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked.

"I'm making fliers for the hotel!" Peter replied, printing one out. "Could you take this to the dark lord to make sure that he approves?"

Snape sighed, took the colourful piece of paper and left the room, wondering why on earth they had a computer anyway.

He had not gone far when he heard a terrible screeching noise coming from behind a nearby door. He opened it and took a moment to take in the horrible sight that lay before him.

Dolohov, Rabastan, Crabbe, Goyle and Macnair were all attempting to play the violin, and none of them were very good at it. Crabbe had his the wrong way round, Goyle was sniffing his suspiciously, Macnair was hacking at his with his bow and Rabastan was using his as a guitar.

The only one in the room who vaguely seemed to have the right idea was Dolohov, who was holding it correctly, but whose playing was terrible.

"Oh, hi Snape!" Dolohov said, stopping his playing.

"Do you know where the dark lord's office is?" Snape asked.

"Yeah," Dolohov replied. "Take the second left from here; carry on until you come to a set of stairs. Go up the stairs and take a right and then a left then the second right then the third left and then turn right. You can't miss it."

"Er, thanks." Snape said, and walked off. He hadn't gone far when he saw a sign indicating a kitchen. Feeling peckish he walked in.

"Lucius!" He cried, seeing Lucius Malfoy in an apron and hat. "You're our cook?"

"Yes!" Lucius replied joyfully. "Cookie?"

Snape left the room quickly and carried on with his search, trying to remember what Dolohov had said. He saw the set of stairs, walked up the stairs, took a right then a left, somewhere he must have gone wrong, which was hardly surprising, because he ended up at another set of stairs and pushed open the door.

He came into a very dark tower room, by the sound of his own footsteps, the room was tall. He groped around in the dark for the light switch and turned it on. He looked around and realised he was in an owlery.

"Oh God." He said, realising whose room this was.

"Hello Sevvy," came a voice. Barty Crouch Jr walked out of the shadows and grinned.

"Why," Snape said. "Do you have such an unhealthy obsession with owls?"

Barty shrugged, he took one of the fliers.

"'_The Voldemort hotel,'_" he read. "_'We give our guests a proper greeting.'_ What kind of catchphrase is that? And shouldn't it be the Death Eater hotel?"

"Apparently not," Snape said. "Do you know the way to the dark lord's office?"

But before Barty could reply, there came a shout from downstairs. Barty and Snape ran downstairs to find the kitchen ransacked, the dining room destroyed, and several stupefied Death Eaters scattered on the floor.

Voldemort was shaking his fist at three aurors who were sprinting away from the house.

"What happened?" Snape asked.

"Those three miscreants came in and destroyed the place!" Voldemort said. "We're going home! Help me with the others. I don't understand how they knew we were here anyway."

"Maybe it had something to do with the e-mails you sent to the others advertising it?" Snape said flatly as the three of them levitated their comrades into the air and began the long walk back home.

"I knew we should have called it the Death Eater hotel." Said Barty.

"Shut up Crouch." Voldemort replied.

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There you go, many more misadventures! Read and review! Why do the Death Eaters have computers? You may well ask.


	5. The Death Eaters go on a field trip

Hello everyone! Thank you for reviewing! I don't own Harry Potter, and, for anyone who's wondering, my favourite Death Eater is Dolohov. He rocks!

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The Death Eaters go on a Field Trip

"Everyone in the car now!" Lord Voldemort said. "Dolohov, get the picnic basket, Lucius your hair looks fine, yes Wormtail you DO have to sit next to Barty..."

The Death Eaters were going on their annual cult field trip and were all piling into their mini van, with some difficulty as nobody had yet succeed in tearing Lucius away from the bathroom mirror, Wormtail was complaining about his field trip buddy and Dolohov had just appeared from his wardrobe upstairs with what looked like snow in his hair. After what seemed like forever, all of the Death eaters were piled into the mini van, with Voldemort driving, and they were off!

"I have a question," Snape said a few minutes later, critical as usual. "Why don't we just apparate to wherever we're going instead of driving this muggle contraption?"

"Because," Lord Voldemort replied, swerving violently to the left to avoid an old lady. "Imagine the uproar it would cause if twelve wizards appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a space station."

"Is that where we're going?" Wormtail squeaked excitedly.

"Yes!" Voldemort replied. "They had lots of different evil things there, and rockets which take unsuspecting vicims to the moon!"

"Great!" Barty said. "Perhaps we can send Wormtail up in one."

The Death Eaters arrived at the space station a few minutes later.

"Quick eveyrone!" Voldemort cried as the Death Eaters hurried out of the mini van. "We don't want to miss our guided tour!"

However, later on, many of them were wishing that they had. The tour was incredibly boring, the tour guide was even more boring and there was a small ugly baby in the group that screamed loudly whenever Voldemort looked at it.

"Minions," Voldemort said as the tour guide went off on a boring speech about the mechanics behind an anti-gravity chamber. "We're going to sneak away from this tour and go and have our own look arouns, so, when the tour goes around the corner, we all bend down to tie our shoelaces, they walk on and whamo! We're free!"

"Excellent idea, sir!" Lucius said. "Just one problem, I'm wearing high heels."

Everyone stared at him.

"It doesn't matter," Voldemort replied, after staring at him with his mouth open for a few seconds. "Just pretend that you are."

The tour began to walk around the corner. The Death Eaters bent down to tiw their laces.

"Can I help you?" The tour guide asked as half of a her visitors tied their shoes.

"No," Voldemort replied. "Just go on without us, we'll catch up."

The tour guide shrugged and walked off around the corner with the other visitors. As soon as they had gone, the Death eaters leapt up.

"Quick!" Voldemort said. "This way!" They ran off along a corridor and stopped a little way along. "Right," he continued. "Register, Lucius?"

"Here."

"Snape?"

"Here."

"Dolohov?"

"Here."

"Wormtail?" There was silence. Voldemort looked around. Two of his Death Eaters were missing. He sighed wearily.

"All right," he said. "Has anyone seen Barty?"

There was suddenly a scream and evil laughter coming from down a passageway. The Death Eaters and Voldemort raced down it and saw Barty looking through a window an dlaughing. They peered in. Wormtail was floating around in mid air, in the anti-gravity chamber, squeaking in terror.

"My lord!" He cried in joy, but his happiness turned into horror as he realised that the rest of the Death Eaters were laughing too.

"These muggle inventions are fantastic!" Voldemort said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Suddenly, there was a shout from down the corridor, a security guard was racing towards them.

"Quick!" Voldemort said to his minions. "Follow me!" He pressed the button which read _'gravity' _and Wormtail fell to the ground with a thump. He rushed out of the door and they all ran away.

"Come back here!" The security guard shouted, but, as you can imagine, they didn't and soon lost the guard up a set of stairs.

"In here!" Voldemort said, pointing, as he and all of his Death Eaters pile dinto a room.

"It's awfully dark in here," Lucius said. "Lumos maxima!" The room was suddenly filled with light from Lucius's wand. They all looked around, the room was made of metal and strange animals in cages were along the walls. Snape walked over to a window and looked out.

"Er, my lord?" Snape said.

"Where are we?" Wondered Voldemort.

"My lord," Snape repeated.

"Where's that security guard?"

"My lord!" Snape said loudly. "Look!"

"What is it, Snape?" Voldemort snapped, hurrying over to the window and looking out. His face turned pale, well, paler than it usually was anyway. They could see that they were somehwere very high up. They could see the ground far below them.

"Uh oh," Dolohov said. "This is one of those space rackets that muggles have."

"Rockets, Dolohov," Snape corrected him. "They send the more intelectually challenged of them to the moon!"

They all looked at each other, and then ran for the door, but it was too late. The rocket began to rumble and shake, and then the rocket blasted off into space, the Death Eaters screamed.

"On the bright side," Lucius said. "We'll be the first Death Eaters to wlak on the moon!"

"SHUT UP!" The others shouted.

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Thanks for reading, please review! More coming soon!


	6. The Death Eaters go to a pantomime

I don't own Harry Potter, just the very different personalities of the characters!

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**The Death Eaters go to a pantomime**

Whispers filled the room as twelve cloaked figures in pointy hats, parted the crowds and marched up to the merchandise stall.

"Twelve flashing l.e.d sticks please," Lord Voldemort said. "And one of those large foam hands."

"Here you go, sir," the salesman said. "That'll be £36."

"Daylight robbery," Voldemort grumbled, passing the salesman the fiddly muggle coins. He passed around the l.e.d sticks, took his foam hand, and the Death Eaters walked away.

The Death Eaters, having found their way back from the moon, were going to a pantomime to see Peter Pan. They found their seats, taking up a whole row.

"Sir?" A man said to Dolohov. "Do you think you could remove your hat? I can't see."

"No." Dolohov replied.

Further along the row, Wormtail was shaking his empty malteser packet, Snape was trying to be inconspicuous through embarrassment, Lucius was brushing his hair, Barty was flicking his tongue randomly and Lord Voldemort was glaring evilly into space.

"I swear I had some of those left!" Wormtail was saying. "All right, who ate them?" He turned to his left, and gave a squeak of terror.

"I thought you were sitting next to Dolohov!" He said to Barty Crouch Jr sitting next to him.

"I am!" Barty replied, gesturing to his other side where Dolohov was having a loud argument with the man behind about hats.

"Did you eat my maltesers?" Wormtail asked. Barty nodded. "I'm telling!" Wormtail cried. "My l-"

"Silencio!" Barty said, and Wormtail completed the sentence in silence.

"Sorry Wormtail," he said. "I didn't quite catch that!"

"Minions! Quiet!" Voldemort said loudly, receiving odd looks from other visitors. "The pantomime's starting!"

The Death Eaters fell silent and watched the stage. It showed the scene of a nursery in an old Victorian house and three muggle children, two boys and a girl. The girl was telling them a story.

"And after she had cleaned the kitchen," she said. "Cinderella swept the chimney, polished the silver and washed the dishes."

Wendy carried on telling the story and by the time she had finished, Wormtail had fallen asleep, however waking with a start after receiving a hard kick from Barty.

The pantomime dragged on and on in this similar fashion until the children were taken away from their nursery to Neverland by a flying boy that reminded Snape of Ronald Weasley.

Suddenly a strange muggle woman in wings pranced on stage, claiming to be a fairy.

"What?" Voldemort cried. "That's not a fairy! That's a muggle in a costume!"

"Shh!" Said a lady in front of them.

"Don't you 'shush' me!" Voldemort said. "I am Lord Voldemort!"

"And I'm Queen of the moon." The lady replied.

"Don't talk to me about the moon, I've been there!" Voldemort yelled.

"Sir, if you don't calm down I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The doorman said.

"He's getting carried away again," Dolohov said to Snape.

"Sorry about Tom," Snape said to the doorman. "He has such a temper."

Voldemort turned around and mouthed at his minion furiously, speechless with rage.

"Sit down, Tom," Snape continued. "There's a good boy."

Voldemort sat down reluctantly, shooting murderous glances at anyone who dared to look at him.

Suddenly, another character walked on, with long black hair and a hook on his hand, the crowd booed loudly. Assuming that this was the bad guy, Voldemort immediately leapt up and cheered, everyone turned around and looked at him.

"Sir, can you please keep the noise down?" The doorman asked again.

"No!" Voldemort cried. "I am Lord Voldemort! Ruler of the world!"

"Er, OK," the doorman said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a walkie-talkie. "Security." He said into it.

Shortly afterwards a group of big men came marching in, rounded up the Death Eaters and kicked them out of the theatre.

"My l.e.d stick!" Wormtail cried as one of the security guards trod on it.

"And stay out!" The security guards cried.

"The cheek!" Voldemort said. "Where's Wormtail? I need to kick something."

"He's behind you!" Barty cried, receiving a withering look from his master and blushed. "Sorry," he said, glaring at Wormtail who was smirking at him.

"Ah, Wormtail, there you are!" Voldemort said, and proceeded to kick him while Barty sniggered in the background. Wormtail sighed, he hated his life.

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Thanks for reviewing everyone! Sorry I haven't updated for a while, I've been working on the soon coming 'Wormtail goes to the shops' and haven't had time to write any more of this.


	7. The Death Eaters do some spring cleaning

Thanks for reviewing everyone. Read and enjoy!

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**The Death Eaters do some spring cleaning**

"Oh I do love the spring!" Lord Voldemort sighed, flinging open his curtains that morning. It was a beautiful day and he felt that a nice relaxing day of world domination planning and kicking Wormtail was in order.

He pulled on his usual black robes and walked out into the corridor. He listened carefully and couldn't hear anything, which was odd. He walked over to Lucius Malfoy's room, pushed open the door and Lucius gave a squeal of fright as his master burst in.

"Lucius, why aren't you up and dressed?" Voldemort asked.

"It's Sunday my lord," Lucius said. "You always let us have an extra hour in bed."

"Do I now?" Voldemort asked. "Well that's about to change, Snape's usually downstairs making my breakfast."

"Snape's at Hogwarts, my lord," Lucius replied. "It's the school year."

"Is it," Voldemort said, in the air of someone who really couldn't care less. "So who else has decided to take off?"

"I'm leaving today sir," Lucius replied. "Rookwood and I have to work at the ministry, and Karkaroff left on Tuesday."

"What about the others?" Voldemort asked.

"Well Bellatrix said something about a spa getaway," Lucius continued. "Crabbe and Goyle had to go home on Wednesday to get their sons new robes, Macnair had an emergency work call out yesterday, Barty had to go home so his father wouldn't get suspicious, and Dolohov hasn't appeared from his wardrobe for days."

"So I'm stuck with…" Voldemort said.

"Wormtail, Rabastan and Rodolphus," Lucius replied. "Lucky you." And with that he fell back to sleep.

Voldemort, muttering crossly to himself, decided that it would be a perfect opportunity for some spring cleaning, so banged on three of his minions doors, thrust an array of cleaning utensils at them including a mop, a broom, a feather duster and several bottles of cleaning liquid.

"What's this?" Rodolphus asked drowsily.

"You're going to clean every inch of this house," Voldemort said. "Polish every spoon, dust every picture, and clean the mirrors until you can see your own faces in them!"

"But why us?" Rabastan moaned.

"Because no one else is here," the dark lord replied. "And this house could do with a good spring cleaning."

"You mean," Wormtail said, hardly believing his ears. "That Barty's gone?"

"Yes Wormtail," Voldemort replied. "Barty's gone."

"Yes! WAHOO!" Wormtail cried, dropping his broom and dancing around in joy.

"Don't be so happy," Voldemort said; who hated it when his minions were happy about anything. "He'll be back tomorrow; his Dad's going on a work holiday." Wormtail's face fell.

"So get to work!" Voldemort cried, the three of them jumped and got to work at once. Wormtail polished the silverware, Rodolphus dusted the floors and Rabastan cleaned the mirrors. By the time they were finished, they trailed downstairs to find Voldemort eating pancakes in the kitchen.

"We've finished." Rodolphus announced, collapsing into a chair.

"Have you done the bedrooms?" Voldemort asked.

"No," Rabastan said.

"Then do it!" Voldemort cried. "Rodolphus, you do Dolohov's, Rabastan, you do Snape's, and Wormtail, you do Barty's."

"NOOOOO!" Wormtail cried.

"Less yelling, more cleaning Wormtail," Voldemort said calmly. "Now go!"

The three of them stomped back upstairs again to tidy their comrade's bedrooms.

Rabastan peered nervously into Snape's bedroom. It was very dark; he stumbled over to the window and opened the veils, curtains, blackout blinds, slat blinds and shutters. Fifteen minutes later when he had opened all of the various light blocking obstacles, there was still no light.

"Lumos maxima," Rabastan sighed wearily, the room filled with light and he realised that Snape had built a brick wall where the window should have been. He stared at it in awe, tripped over a pile of school books and crashed into the chest of drawers.

Meanwhile, Rodolphus was tidying Dolohov's bedroom. He walked over to his wardrobe and peered inside. Why the wardrobe, you ask? Well, his curiosity got the better of him when he saw the trail of snow leading from the door to the wardrobe. He stepped in, looked in confusion at a pink dress hanging in there, and was drawn towards a light at the back of the wardrobe. He stepped out into a snowy forest; a strange man with horns and hooves was standing nearby holding a large pile of presents.

"Hello sir," the strange man said. "Can I help you?"

Rodolphus started at him for a moment, and then ran screaming out of the bedroom.

Meanwhile, Wormtail was turning the door handle of Barty's room nervously. Being one of the youngest Death Eaters, Barty was often pulling stupid practical jokes, mostly aimed at Wormtail. He pushed open the door, and froze, nothing happened.

He stepped into the room tentatively, brandishing the feather duster like a weapon, and then _did _freeze, he had seen…the owls.

Barty had a very odd obsession with owls, and kept them in his room. Whenever he felt like annoying someone, he let them fly around the house generally making pests of themselves.

"Nice owls," Wormtail said nervously. "Good owls. Stay owls."

However the owls seem to have been given instructions not to listen to anyone apart from Barty because with one simultaneous swoop they flew in a flock past Wormtail and into the corridor, knocking over everything in the way, wrecking all of their careful cleaning and soaring off down the stairs.

At that moment, Rodolphus came screaming out of Dolohov's room, Rabastan stumbled out of Snape's room and Wormtail stood in the doorway, staring after the owls.

"Quick!" Rabastan cried. "After them!" Not even bothering to ask Rodolphus what had happened, he ran off down the stairs followed by Wormtail and Rodolphus. They were met by Voldemort at the bottom of the stairs, who fixed them with a murderous glare, his robes were ripped and torn and he looked furious.

"Whoever let the owls out of Barty's room," he said dangerously. "Will wish they had never been born."

"It was Wormtail!" Rabastan and Rodolphus cried. Wormtail glared at them.

"Come here, Wormtail," Voldemort said, but suddenly the door burst open.

"Hello my lord," Barty said. "Dad went on holiday early; I just had to imperius the elf …what happened here?" He looked around.

"Your owls happened to swoop through the house destroying everything," Voldemort replied. Wormtail smirked at Barty, glad that he would get into trouble at last.

Barty saw Wormtail and understood what had happened.

"Didn't you see the sign, though, on the door?" He asked slowly, smirking back at Wormtail.

"What sign, Wormtail?" Voldemort asked, spinning round to face his minion.

"I didn't see any sign, my lord," Wormtail said truthfully.

"Don't lie to the Dark Lord," Barty said. "There WAS a sign, it warned people about the owls."

"Is this true, Wormtail?" Voldemort asked, but Wormtail was just staring, open mouthed at Barty, astonished that even he would have the nerve to lie to Voldemort.

"Perfectly true, my lord," Barty replied, without a trace of guilt.

"In which case," Voldemort said. "Wormtail, I order you to tidy the entire house top to bottom. Now!"

Wormtail, grumbling crossly, picked up a broom and stomped up the stairs. He hated that guy.

-----

Hello friends, foes, followers and freaks. I am Red Gnome. And thank you for reviewing! Those of you who are thinking, 'That Barty, he gets away with everything.' Don't be so sure, because in the next episode, the others get their revenge! Coming soon!


	8. The Death Eaters on April Fools day

Greetings everyone! As promised last time, the others will get their revenge on Barty for all of the jokes he pulled on them. Read on to find out how…

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**The Death Eaters on April Fools day**

Lord Voldemort peered around his bedroom door cautiously. He had checked his calendar, and realised, to his horror, that it was April Fools day. Lord Voldemort had lots of Death Eaters, short, tall, stupid, clever, but there was one, the youngest and the most immature, who simply loved pulling practical jokes on everyone. So far, this Death Eater had turned Wormtail into an owl, stuck him in an anti gravity chamber, eaten all of his maltesers and housed owls in his room. This Death Eater was Barty Crouch Jr.

Voldemort stepped out of the door cautiously and tiptoed across the landing, he knocked on Lucius Malfoy's door nervously.

"Who is it?" Came the reply from inside.

"It's me you imbecile!" Voldemort snapped.

"Oh good," Lucius sighed. "Come in."

Voldemort opened the door and walked into the room.

"Is _he _out there?" Lucius asked; who was hiding under his covers.

"No," Voldemort replied. "Have you seen him yet?"

"No," Lucius said. "Nobody's got up yet, everyone's too scared to come out of their rooms."

"What?" Voldemort said. "But who's going to make my breakfast?"

"Er, you sir?" Lucius suggested timidly.

"No, we have a rota," Voldemort replied. "On Monday it's Rodolphus, on Tuesday it's Dolohov, on Wednesday it's Wormtail, on Thursday it's Macnair so today it must be…" he trailed off in horror as he saw the name on the list. "Oh no," he said. "Oh no no no no no."

"What?" Lucius asked.

"Fridays," Voldemort replied, pointing at the rota. "Barty Crouch Junior."

"How could this happen?" Lucius asked.

"I don't know," Voldemort replied. "But I am NOT going down there." Suddenly, a voice came calling up from the kitchen.

"Oh my lord!" It called, in a horribly familiar voice. "Your breakfast is ready!"

"It's him!" Voldemort cried desperately. "What shall I do?"

"Say you're not hungry," Lucius replied.

"I'm not hungry!" Voldemort called back down the stairs.

"All right then," Barty replied. "I'll just eat this toast and jam myself then."

Voldemort froze.

"Did you say jam?" He asked.

"My lord, no!" Lucius cried.

"What kind of jam?" Voldemort asked, ignoring Lucius.

"Strawberry," came the voice from downstairs. "And I cut off the crusts just like you like it."

"Well then how can I say no?" Voldemort asked, racing downstairs.

"NOOOOO!" Lucius yelled, leaping out of his bed in vibrant pink pyjamas, as Lord Voldemort's weakness for strawberry preserves sent him speeding towards his doom.

"Where's the jam?" Voldemort asked as he raced into the kitchen, suddenly, he was jerked upwards by a piece of rope, and before he knew it, was suspended upside down in the air, Barty cackling hysterically on the other side of the room.

"BARTY!" Voldemort cried. "Just wait until I get down from here!"

The other Death Eaters suddenly burst into the room, took one look at their suspended master and their laughing comrade, and glared.

"Er, hi guys, Barty said as the Death Eaters advanced menacingly on him, brandishing strawberry jam. "Now let's not throw jam at anyone too hastily."

"Too late," Snape said. "We'll give you two seconds to run."

"This is ridiculous," Barty said nervously, backing away slowly.

"FIRE!" They yelled, and began firing jam at him. At last they had their revenge.

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There you go! Barty is splattered in jam!

I think that he has been in too many of the stories so far, so I shall now focus on the other Death Eaters, mainly because Barty goes all depressed and sulks in his room for a long time after this and doesn't really do much. Next chapter is focused on Wormtail! Thanks for reading!


	9. Wormtail goes to the shops

Hello everyone! For those of you who feel sorry for Wormtail and think that Barty picks on him too much, you're in luck. Because Barty is not in this story really, and the star is Wormtail! But if you think he has a jolly good time somewhere happy, then think again, because where he goes is every Death Eater's nightmare, this place is so dangerous, so deadly, that hardly any of them ever go there. This place, is the supermarket.

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**Wormtail goes to the shops**

"Where on earth is the jam?" Lord Voldemort asked, rummaging through the cupboards. It was the morning, and he could not find his favourite reduced sugar strawberry jam anywhere.

That may have had something to do with April fool's day the previous week when the Death Eaters had thrown a large amount of jam at Barty Crouch Jr for hanging Voldemort upside down from the ceiling. Since then, Barty had remained uncharacteristically quiet, and hadn't pulled any practical jokes for days, he hadn't even kicked Wormtail, which was very odd, but still, it was probably for the best.

"WORMTAIL!" Lord Voldemort yelled.

"Yes my lord?" Wormtail asked, running into the kitchen.

"Where is the jam?" Voldemort asked.

"Ah," Wormtail replied. "Well Lucius used the last pot to make a sponge cake, and it didn't turn out too well."

"Go and get some more," Voldemort ordered. "From the muggle shops."

"But my lord!" Wormtail whined. "Can't you just magic some up?"

"No," Voldemort replied. "Because then there would be no story."

"But I was just pestering Barty," the minion protested, annoyed that he should be dragged away from annoying the person he despised most.

"I wouldn't provoke him," Voldemort replied. "He hasn't been himself lately. Here's £100. Get as many pots of jam as you can fit in the trolley." He passed Wormtail the money.

Wormtail sighed, and walked out of the door glumly.

He arrived at the supermarket a few minutes later, and pushed a trolley through the big automatic doors. As the trolley was a bit bigger than himself, he found steering a difficulty, but soon found his way in.

It was a very large place, filled with people pushing trolleys and pulling screaming toddlers.

Wormtail knew that muggles shouldn't see him. He was all over the news when Sirius Black supposedly killed him, to have the unsuspecting muggles see a person who they thought were dead would not be good.

Luckily for him, his face was mostly concealed by trolley, so nobody could really see him.

He looked up at the ceiling to see the signs for the aisles.

"Dairy products," he muttered to himself. "Meat, biscuits, preserves!"

He looked at the sign again.

"Damn." He said to himself as he realised that the particular aisle he wanted was on the other side of the supermarket. There was no way that he would get there without being seen. Then he pictured himself going home without the jam. Voldemort would definitely be angry, perhaps even crucioing him, he wouldn't put it past him.

He sighed to himself, he had to try.

He pushed the trolley a step further and then realised that this was impossible.

Suddenly, he saw an aisle marked 'clothes for the holidays.' A sudden though hit him and he hurried towards the aisle.

A few minutes later and he appeared from the aisle wearing a large brown overcoat, a rainbow coloured sun hat, a pair of dark sunglasses, and high heels to make him a bit taller.

He looked nervously around; so far the coast was clear, he grabbed the trolley and ran through the aisle to the next one. There was an old lady picking out a bag of mini cheddars. He gasped and flung himself behind a display of corned beef tins, unfortunately sending them tumbling to the ground.

"Help!" The old lady cried as the cans swarmed like an avalanche over her trolley.

Wormtail scrambled out of the pile and grabbed onto the trolley as a security guard skidded around the corner and ran towards him.

"Stop right there sir, er, miss, er… you hooligan!" The guard cried, but, like every other Death Eater, Wormtail had no respect for muggle authority, and so sped round the corner on his trolley, crashing into a young muggle man.

"Hey!" The man cried as Wormtail sped off again.

"There he is! After him!" The security guard cried, he had obviously acquired quite a following as thirty muggles at least were running after him throwing oranges, apples, lemons, and various other fruits at him.

Wormtail ran around the corner into a deserted aisle, he dropped to his knees and crawled under the tall shelves. He heard the footsteps of the muggles and fell silent.

"There's his trolley!" A muggle woman said. "But he's gone!"

"This way!" The guard cried, and ran in the opposite direction.

As soon as they had gone, Wormtail scrambled out from under the shelves, grabbed his trolley again and drove it up the aisle.

"There!" The guard cried as the growing mob of angry shoppers ran in Wormtail's direction.

There was no other option, Wormtail gave the trolley a hard push and leapt on it, he somehow manoeuvred it into the preserves aisle, piled as many pots of jam into the trolley as he could and sped off again.

"Oh no," he said as he noticed that the way out was blocked by muggles.

He picked up as much speed as he could, slammed the money down on the counter as he passed it, and went speeding recklessly towards the automatic door.

**CRASH! **

Muggles went flying as the trolley collided with them and Wormtail went whizzing out into the car park, at last he was safe.

Wormtail arrived, panting back at the Death Eater's house, pushing the trolley full of pots of jam.

"Here you are my lord," he gasped, arriving in the kitchen where Voldemort was sitting. "Your jam."

Voldemort picked up a pot and looked at it disdainfully.

"Er, Wormtail," he said. "This is Blackberry jam."

"So?" Wormtail panted, hardly believing his ears.

"I wanted strawberry." Voldemort replied.

Wormtail collapsed. The things he did for his master.

---

Hope you enjoyed that! Next chapter is dedicated to Lucius Malfoy, master baker! Coming soon!

Red Gnome.


	10. Lucius enters a baking contest

Greetings one and all! After much work and toil, I have constructed chapter 10 starring Lucius Malfoy!

As requested by Slytherin Slavelaborer, Lucius has become a little more feminine, and Snape manages to sneak in a few dark and depressing comments in this chapter. Read on for more info!

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**Lucius enters a baking contest**

Lord Voldemort was sitting in the kitchen one morning, eating his toast and jam, something that he regularly did on Saturdays, when his peace was interrupted by a high pitched scream.

"Curses!" Voldemort cried, dropping his toast, sticky side down of course, on the floor. "Whoever that is is going to pay!"

He stomped up the stairs and nearly crashed into Lucius Malfoy who was whizzing along the corridor clutching a piece of paper.

"What are you doing?" Voldemort asked angrily.

"I have some excellent news my lord!" Lucius cried. "But I have to tell you all together, I need everyone to be in the living room in five minutes!" And he raced off down the stairs, leaving Voldemort baffled.

A few minutes later and all of the Death Eaters were gathered in the living room, sitting in the various chairs.

"Everyone," Lucius said. "I have an announcement. Does anybody watch the television show, _'The chefs among us?'_?"

Nobody could honestly say that they did.

"Well," Lucius continued. "I entered a competition where I sent in my recipe for chocolate chip cookies, and I got the letter today saying that I won! I'm going to be on the show competing with the other winners!"

The Death Eaters utterly failed to burst into enthusiastic applause. Dolohov coughed.

"Doesn't anyone have anything to say?" Voldemort asked, feeling a bit sorry for his minion, no matter how unmanly he may be. To his relief, Snape raised his hand.

"Yes?" Voldemort said.

"Life is meaningless, death is inevitable." Snape replied flatly.

"Right, er, thank you Snape for that cheery outlook on our existence." Voldemort said, a little worriedly.

"So anyway," Lucius continued. "I have to go to it on Monday, and I would really like it if you lot came along, you know, to show support and all that?"

After this, the Death Eaters burst into a chorus of excuses.

"I think I've got a beauty appointment then," Bellatrix said swiftly.

"I've got to go back to school…" Karkaroff added.

"I've got to see a guy about some Turkish delight," Dolohov said.

"SILENCE!" Voldemort said. "All of you are going whether you like it or not! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes my lord." The Death Eaters grumbled.

It was clear on the Monday morning, that many Death Eaters were having second thoughts about their agreement.

"I'm not going!" Rabastan cried. "I'm not going! I'm not going!"

"You have to go," Bellatrix said. "Come on, you're a Death Eater, what would your family say?"

At that moment, Rodolphus burst into the room.

"I'm not going!" He yelled. "I'm not going! I'm not going!"

"Never mind." Bellatrix sighed.

Meanwhile, Macnair and Rookwood ran back to Voldemort, having failed to find Dolohov.

"We can't find him, m'lord," Rookwood said.

"Where could he be?" Voldemort asked. "Don't tell me he's gone back into that wardrobe again."

Suddenly, they heard a sound coming from a nearby broom cupboard. They opened it and found Dolohov munching on Turkish Delights, which he quickly hid behind his back.

"These aren't mine," he said through his mouthful. "I was framed…"

"Guess who's going to be your field trip buddy!" Wormtail cried in Barty's ear. They were the only two actually sitting in the mini van at that moment, and Wormtail was enjoying every second of torturing his enemy. "Me!" He continued. "And I'm going to kick you the entire time, just like you always kicked me." And with that, he proceeded to sing, "I know a song that will get on your nerves, NERVES! Get on your nerves, NERVES! Get on your nerves, NERVES!"

With that last 'NERVES', Barty seemed to be almost going for his wand, but at that moment, the door of the house flung open, and Lucius Malfoy walked out, wearing something so outrageous that even Wormtail stopped singing to look at him.

His hair was freshly washed and brushed; he had obviously stolen some of Bellatrix's make up, he was wearing a sparkly pink top with a light pink flowery apron over it, and had sparkly pink flares underneath. The two Death Eaters stared in horror at the flashing pink platforms on his feet.

"What are you wearing?" Wormtail asked as he got in the passenger seat in front of them.

"It's the latest fashion," Lucius said. "But I customized the shoes; I could even make you a pair Wormtail."

"No!" Wormtail cried. "I mean, I'm all right for shoes at the moment thanks."

By the time that everyone had piled into the car, everyone was getting thoroughly sick of Wormtail's relentless singing.

"Barty make him stop!" Bellatrix yelled, covering her ears. Barty merely shrugged and continued staring out of the window.

The Death Eaters all looked at him in bewilderment.

"Wormtail shut up!" Voldemort cried as he got into the drivers seat, closed the door and started the engine.

Wormtail remained silent for the rest of the journey, and apart from Lucius regularly glancing at himself in the mirror; the Death Eaters didn't do anything particularly exciting.

When the arrived, Voldemort parked the car and they all got out at the studio. They all followed Lucius and filed in through the door. Lucius walked up to the reception desk and stopped.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Lucius Malfoy, competition finalist, and these are the friends I mentioned."

"Ah yes, Mr Malfoy and his… knitting club," she said uncertainly, glancing at the Death Eaters in their customary black robes and pointy hats. She passed him the tickets. "Here you are, you're the first door on the right and the rest of you just carry straight on until the end of the corridor."

"Thank you." Lucius said, and stalked off into the first door on the right.

Clutching their tickets, the Death Eaters walked down the corridor until they came to two big doors. A doorman took their tickets and opened them, and the Death Eaters came out into a large hall with lots of seats overlooking a well lit stage with four small kitchen surfaces. _'The chefs among us' _were printed in large flashing letters above it.

The Death Eaters found their seats and sat down.

"I'll have those I think," Wormtail said to Barty, snatching his packet of maltesers. Barty just stared glumly into space.

Dolohov, who was sitting on the other side of Barty, stared.

He had always liked Barty, jokes and all, and to see him just let Wormtail snatch away his maltesers worried him.

"Give them back Wormtail." Dolohov ordered.

"No," Wormtail said, munching on the sweets. "If Barty didn't want me to have them, he would have said something.

Dolohov sighed and sat back in his seat as everyone fell silent and an odd muggle walked on stage.

"Hello!" He said into a microphone. "And welcome to our finals! Today our four contestants will compete for the title of Best Chef and receive this lovely golden trophy, not to mention free tickets at any spa or beauty centre that they choose. Our four lucky finalists are: Mrs Jones!" An old lady in a hairnet came out and stood at the first station. "Petunia Dursley!" A tall, long necked woman came out, grinning at the camera crew who were nearby. "Alastor Moody!" Voldemort nearly spat out his orange juice as Alastor Moody, the ex auror smiled at everyone and walked on stage. "And our final competitor, Lucius Malfoy!" The presenter said, as Lucius walked into view, grinning at everyone, still wearing his really too pink clothes. The audience applauded.

"Now our competitors are going to be making a recipe of our choice," the presenter said. "And that is, chocolate chips cookies!"

"Oh no," Voldemort said in horror. "Not cookies."

"He's doomed." Rookwood agreed,

"That's my speciality!" Lucius said happily.

"Good, good," the presenter said with an enormous false grin, pretending to care. "Ready set, go!"

The competitors started to cook frantically; Lucius was rushing around grabbing ingredients and putting them into a bowl. Voldemort could barely look at the end when time was up and Lucius had a tray of freshly baked cookies in front of him.

"Mrs Jones, your cookies please," The presenter said. The old woman walked up and passed a cookie to the man. "Very nice." The presenter said, and the lady grinned proudly and walked back. "Petunia Dursley, your cookies please?" Aunt Petunia walked up, grinning broadly and held out a cookie. "Perhaps a little too much cinnamon." He said. Aunt Petunia looked mortally offended and stalked off. "Alastor Moody, yours please?" Moody passed the tray to the man. "There's, er, there's nothing there." The presenter said.

"Can't be too careful," Moody said. "You have no idea what some evil dictator might slip into your ordinary self raising flour."

"O-K," The presenter said. "Thank you Alastor. And our last competitor, Lucius Malfoy!"

Lucius leapt up, and almost ran to the front, passing the whole tray of cookies to the man.

He picked one up and bit into it, and spat it out at once.

"Is there metal in here?" He asked, referring to the cookies.

"So that's where the mixer went," Lucius said.

"Right," the presenter said. "Well, I think there is no mistaking the winner here today, Lucius Malfoy!"

"YES!" Lucius cried, as the audience clapped.

"And there's something else we have to tell you." The presenter said, with a slightly evil grin. "You are not on _'The chefs among us,' _but on the new TV show, _'Cooks from hell, when good chefs go bad,' _and you are officially the nation's worst chef! Congratulations!"

Lucius mouthed speechlessly, astonished that he had been named the worst chef in the country. He glared at the laughing audience and turned to a pot of jam on his left. He picked it up, unscrewed the lid and splattered the presenter in strawberry paste.

After all, what was life without a bit of strawberry jam?


	11. The Lestranges go on a family outing

Hi everyone, it's Reddy again. I'd just like to apologise again to any Harry Potter fans who were mortally wounded by my error in chapter 10. I did correct it as soon as I found out! Sorry!

Anyway, to make it up to those people, I have decided to base this next one to the Lestrange family. What happens when they go for some family bonding? Well it can't be good.

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**The Lestranges go on a family outing**

"Are we nearly there yet?" Rabastan asked from the back seat of the mini van.

"No." Bellatrix said through gritted teeth.

"How about now?" Rodolphus asked.

"No."

"Now?"

"No."

"Now?"

"NO!" Bellatrix yelled, swerving the van to the left. At least it made them shut up.

"You could try driving a little slower dear," Rodolphus said tentatively.

"You could try shutting up Rabastan." Bellatrix snapped back.

"I've tried." Rodolphus protested. "He won't listen to me.

"Have you got a wand or not?" She asked in exasperation.

"Oh," Rodolphus said, drawing out his wand from his pocket. "Sorry."

He turned around. "Silencio." He cried, catching Rabastan in mid sentence.

He turned back round and looked out of the window.

The Lestranges were going on 'a nice family outing' as Bellatrix had called it that morning. He wasn't entirely sure where they were going, and he had been hoping to challenge Rookwood to a game of wizards chess that afternoon, but when Bellatrix wanted to do something, he was really too scared to argue.

"Er, you seem a little tense dear," he said, as Bellatrix tried to crucio the traffic lights in front of them.

"I'm fine!" She snapped back.

"O-K then, you're fine." He said, and resumed to staring out of the window. There was a long pause, and then he smirked and asked: "Are we nearly there yet?"

Bellatrix shot a hex at him and he ducked, the van went swerving to the side of the road, she grabbed the wheel just in time to steer it back onto the road and glared out of the window at a car who had just beeped at them.

"May I ask where we are actually going?" Rodolphus asked a few minutes later.

"We are going," said Bellatrix. "To have a nice little walk in the park."

"Oh." Rodolphus said, a little disappointedly.

"And torture a few muggles." She added.

"Oh!" He said, a lot more cheerily.

"I had Lucius pack us some lunch and we can all enjoy some family bonding time together." She smiled, a little happier.

"And The Dark Lord let you borrow the mini van?" He asked.

"No," Bellatrix admitted. "But he's not going to use it. And he's got enough on his hands already. I heard Wormtail's turning into a little tearaway, turning Lucius's hair green."

"I swear after April Fool's day that guy turned mental." Rodolphus sighed. "What is it Rabastan?"

His brother was tapping him on his shoulder repeatedly and pointing out of the back window. Rodolphus turned around and looked.

"Er, Bellatrix?" He said.

"What is it now?" She asked.

"Those muggle aurors are after us." He replied.

"What!" She cried, nearly crashing into the side of the road as she turned around to see two police cars chasing them.

"You should probably pull over," Rodolphus said.

"No way." She said. "I'm not going to be caught by muggles."

And with that, she slammed her foot on the pedal and the van went speeding off.

"I really think you should pull over…"

"Shut up! Can't you see I'm driving?"

"Just stop the car, everything will be fine…"

"No!"

"Well if you could just pull-GET OFF RABASTAN!"

Rabastan was clinging onto his brother's head, clearly terrified either of the police, or at the way over recommended speed they were going, or both.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a siren and a policeman on a motorbike drove up beside them and tapped on the window.

"THIS IS NOT LIKE QUIDDITCH!" Rodolphus yelled as Bellatrix swerved to the right, knocking the man off his motorbike and into the hedge.

"Excellent idea!" Bellatrix said, and stopped the car abruptly.

"Thank goodness you finally see-"

"Rabastan, get the broomsticks." She continued.

"What!" Rodolphus cried. "Are you mad? They are muggles?"

"And we're Death Eaters." Bellatrix replied as she grabbed her broomstick and got out of the car.

"Good point." Rodolphus said, taking his.

The police cars screeched to a stop and the policemen got out of their cars just in time to watch in amazement the three Death Eaters soar off into the clear blue sky.

"Back in!" One cried, and they all got back into their cars and began to chase them.

"We've got a couple of broomsticks heading eastbound in the south county area," one policeman spoke into his walkie talkie. "Send in the Chopper."

"Yes!" Bellatrix cried as they climbed higher and higher. "Stupid muggles!"

"Watch out!" Rodolphus cried as the police helicopter zoomed into view.

If Rabastan could have talked, he would probably have been screaming as they spiralled downwards to avoid a collision.

"Apparate!" Bellatrix cried. "Back to the house!"

Lord Voldemort was sitting in the kitchen making some tea when he heard the Lestranges come in through the front door.

"Dare I ask what happened to the mini van?" He asked.

"I wouldn't." Rodolphus replied.

"So how was your outing?" Voldemort asked.

"Great," Bellatrix said. "Really relaxing. We all really bonded."

"Good," Voldemort said. "Well, tea will be ready in a minute. Go and tell the others would you."

"Sure." They replied, and walked off.

They never did get the mini van back.


	12. Snape gets emails

Yo dudes. This chapter is dedicated to Severus Snape, everyone's least favourite potions master! (Special guest appearance, Albus Dumbledore!)

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**Snape gets e-mails**

Severus Snape sat at the desk in his office, marking the third year homework, writing large and florescent 'F's' on Harry Potter and Ron Weasley's homework with an evil grin.

He was just grudgingly writing an 'A' on Hermione Granger's work, void of any potential mark spoilers, when there was an irritating beeping noise coming from the metal box in the corner of his room.

Muttering crossly, Snape walked over to it. It was a computer, Lord Voldemort had insisted that one should be installed in all of his Death Eater's houses, whether they liked it or not.

Snape saw that Voldemort had sent him an email. He read it.

_Where are the extra pots of jam? _

Snape sighed and replied.

**I don't know, ask Wormtail. **

_Wormtail's gone mad, I can't ask him anything. _

**What do you mean 'he's gone mad?'**

_He's nuts! He won't listen to me or anyone! He's even keeping owls in his room. _

**Oh great, well you know what's happening don't you. **

_No, what? _

**It's because of Barty. He's been in his room the whole time so isn't there to push Wormtail around; as a result, Wormtail's gone mental. **

_Look, I don't care. I just want my jam; can you pick some up on your way home?_

**I'm at Hogwarts, I can't come home. **

_Fine, I'll ask Lucius. _

**I wouldn't, he'll insist on making it himself. **

_Good point, I'll just look for it myself. Oh damn._

**What? **

_I don't suppose your email address is sherbertlemonhogwarts is it? _

**No, that's Dumbledore's, why? **

_Because I accidentally sent this entire email to him. _

**WHAT? He's bound to know that I'm working for you now! **

_Wait! He sent me an email! _

Voldemort read Dumbledore's email:

**Dear Tom**

**I am delighted to see that you have decided to appreciate the sheer genius of this muggle invention, and use it for socialising with my staff. I must however express my slight astonishment that young master Crouch is alive and well, up until now it was to my belief that he died in Azkaban. But no matter, I was dreadfully sorry to hear about your strawberry jam predicament and I will send you some more with an owl immediately. **

**Please write soon**

**Albus Dumbledore.**

Voldemort finished reading the email. Great, now Dumbledore knew his email address. Suddenly, an owl flew in at the window with a large pot of strawberry jam.

Snape had sent him an email.

**What happened? What did he say? **

Voldemort took the jam and replied.

_I'll bounce it to you. Found the jam. _

----

Next chapter is dedicated to Dolohov! Coming soon!


	13. Dolohov and his wardrobe

Good evening everyone, or, for those of you in different time zones, good night and good morning! I expect that many of you have been wondering about Dolohov and his mysterious disappearances for days into the back of his wardrobe, well, as those of you who have read the other chapters will have deduced, it is no ordinary wardrobe…

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**Dolohov and his wardrobe**

Antonin Dolohov ate his breakfast quickly, watched in awe by Snape and Rodolphus Lestrange.

"You seem to be in a hurry," Snape said. As it was the Easter holidays, he had returned from Hogwarts and moved back into his room. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere," Dolohov replied, not meeting Snape's eyes.

"You know," Rodolphus added. "I think you really need a new wardrobe."

Dolohov froze.

"No I don't," he said tensely. "My one's fine."

"But that old thing's so battered," Snape said. "Surely you don't want it, I mean; it's not as if it's magic or anything."

"Magic? My wardrobe?" Dolohov said in a strangely high pitched voice. "Whatever would give you that idea?" And with that he hurried out of the room.

"It's magic." Snape said to Rodolphus when he had gone.

"Oh yeah." Rodolphus replied.

Dolohov scrambled into his wardrobe, pushed aside the various black robes and pink dress and ran to the back. Hoping to fell snow beneath his shoes and the cold of the forest, he was surprised to instead feel himself collide with solid wood.

"Ow! What the-" He stood up, rubbing his head. He touched the back of the wardrobe again, it was wood!

"No!" He cried, banging furiously on it.

"Something the matter?" Snape said, smirking at Dolohov from outside the wardrobe.

"No," Dolohov replied, climbing out.

"Oh sorry, I forgot to tell you," Snape sneered. "We swopped your wardrobe with the one in the dark lord's bedroom."

"What? Why?" Dolohov asked.

"Because he wanted it!" Snape said sharply. "Not disagreeing with our master's decisions are we?" He asked, giving Dolohov a nasty smile.

"No," Dolohov said, trying to conceal his panicked expression. "I was just surprised." As soon as Snape left, Dolohov kicked his new wardrobe angrily. He had to get his old one back!

That night, Dolohov crept across the landing. It was midnight, and all of the Death Eaters were asleep. He carefully opened Lord Voldemort's door and tiptoed inside the room. Voldemort was snoring in his bed, a teddy bear in his arms.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Dolohov whispered to the wardrobe in the corner of the room, it levitated a little way off the ground. Unfortunately, Voldemort had stacked a row of books on top of it and they came crashing down onto the floor, in his fright, Dolohov dropped the spell and the wardrobe fell to the ground with a thud.

Voldemort snorted loudly and began to move. Quickly, Dolohov rushed over to his side and began to sing quietly.

"Go to sleep, lord Voldemort…

Have sweet dreams tonight…

When you wake, dawn will break…  
And a new day begins…

Kick Wormtail, boss us around…

Destroy Harry Potter…

'Till night comes around."

He glanced at Voldemort, who was snoring peacefully again. Satisfied that his singing had worked, Dolohov whispered the spell again and levitated the wardrobe again.

The tricky part was getting it through the door, but somehow he managed, and levitated it happily along the corridor and into his room.

He put it down in one corner and levitated the other one, out of the door, along the corridor, and back into Voldemort's room. He positioned it carefully, and very steadily lowered it to the ground. He dropped the spell and the wardrobe fell to the floor with a crash.

"What's going on?" Voldemort cried, waking up and sitting up, staring around the room. He caught sight of Dolohov.

"Dolohov!" He cried. "How dare you wake me up! Crucio!"

Dolohov stared at his master who was brandishing a pencil at him instead of his wand.

"What are you doing in here?" Voldemort asked, throwing down the pencil.

"I-was…" Dolohov stammered.

"You were trying to get your wardrobe back weren't you," Voldemort grinned.

"No!" Dolohov cried.

"Well it won't work!" Voldemort replied. "You need to get up pretty early in the morning to pull the wool over my eyes! Now back to bed! Some of us need our beauty sleep."

Dolohov left the room, grinning to himself. At least he had his wardrobe back.

---

Hope you enjoyed that, Dolohov and his wardrobe had to come in somewhere.

The next chapter is the one many of you have been waiting for, and as soon as I have put this up, I will start writing it straight away! Look out for chapter fourteen! 'An exclusive view into the mind of Barty Crouch' where all questions will be answered…


	14. An exclusive view into the mind of

I won't bother introducing this one, the title's just below, I would have put it as the name of the chapter but it was too long so I had to cut it a bit, and I know how much some of you have wanted to read this, so I'll shut up and you can read it!

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**An exclusive view into the mind of Barty Crouch**

Barty Crouch Jr sighed as he lay on his bed. He hadn't been out of his room for days. It was strange, having been prisoner inside his own house for nearly fourteen years, he would have expected himself to be anywhere but inside now that he was free. But lately something had made him feel inclined to stay in his room and not socialise with anyone.

An owl flew in through the window, landed on his cupboard and looked in concern at him. It hopped onto his bed and nibbled affectionately at his ear, as owls are wont to do.

Having no reaction from its master, the owl decided that he must not know it was there, so bit him hard on his finger.

"Ow!" Barty cried, sitting up quickly. The owl hooted in alarm and flew out of the window again. "Blasted owls," he grumbled, lying back down.

Even he admitted, he had not been himself lately. Instead of his usual joke pulling and noisy, disruptive attitude, he hadn't even spoken to any of his fellow Death Eaters for ages, and just let Wormtail walk all over him.

The reason for this could only be traced back to April Fools day, when he was embarrassingly covered in jam. After that, he had considered himself to be useless, and retired to his room to sulk and ponder about life.

Certainly the others had noticed. Dolohov, whom he had always had a good friendship, had noticed the way Wormtail was picking on him, Lucius had ceased to glance at him disdainfully when he passed, turning to ignoring him completely, and Voldemort – well he didn't really care, but others definitely noticed.

He wondered why losing to the others bothered him so much. Perhaps he was just too proud for his own good.

There was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he said flatly. The door opened and Dolohov came into the room.

"Hello," Dolohov said. "I just brought you up some lunch."

Barty shrugged.

"You know, me and the others are a bit worried about you," he continued. "You haven't come out for ages."

The only reply he got was another shrug. Dolohov had a sudden thought.

"Wormtail's turning into quite the practical joker," he said.

Barty didn't shrug this time; in fact he seemed to be listening intently.

"He's doing everything you used to do," Dolohov said. "Turning Lucius's hair green, stealing everyone's maltesers, just like you, except a lot better of course."

"What?" Barty said, sitting up.

"Oh yeah," Dolohov replied. "He's much better than you ever were. Anyway, just thought I should tell you. Bye."

He left the room, feeling rather pleased with himself.

Barty stared into space for a little, thinking. Wormtail, a better practical joker than him? The thought was ridiculous. He was nowhere near tall enough to reach up and put buckets over doors, or set up that trap of pure genius that had Voldemort suspended from the ceiling.

Then Barty realised, this was stupid. He was a better practical joker than all of them put together! Especially Wormtail. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he was the son of a highly respected ministry figure, and ministry figures did not give up. They persevered!

Barty jumped out of his bed, feeling the colour rush back into him, and the wonderfully familiar evil grin spread over his face. He would not give up his position to Wormtail! He rummaged through his drawers, feeling a plan mould itself in his mind. He would show Wormtail who the best practical joker was. He would show everyone!

He crept out of his room a few minutes later, holding something under his cloak. He tiptoed down the stairs and peered around the door of the kitchen where Wormtail was replacing Lucius's meringue mix with shaving cream.

He coughed and walked through the door.

"Oh hello Barty," Wormtail grinned nastily. "Come to try the meringues?"

"No actually Wormtail," Barty replied. "I came to give you something, you know, passing the torch to the next practical joker king."

"I'm glad to see you've come around," Wormtail said. "Well then, let me have it."

"Well then," Barty sighed. "If you insist."

And he drew out one of those muggle water guns, except there definitely wasn't water inside. Barty aimed it at Wormtail who stared in horror and back into the corner.

"MY LORD!" He cried, but no sooner had the last word left his mouth than he was absolutely covered in strawberry jam.

"Who's the best practical joker NOW?" Barty yelled, cackling, as the other Death Eaters, startled by the commotion, rushed into the room.

"Crouch!" Voldemort cried. "What have you been doing with my jam?"

"Why nothing my lord," Barty said innocently. "Ask Wormtail."

"WORMTAIL!" Voldemort yelled. "Explain yourself!"

"But – my lord!" Wormtail cried, staring aghast at Barty who smirked at him. "It wasn't me – It was –" But before he could finish his sentence, Voldemort dragged Wormtail out by his ears.

"You'll be scrubbing every single corner of this house!" He yelled from the corridor. "And you better start now!"

Barty sighed contentedly, revenge was sweet.

"Barty's back." Dolohov grinned. And the others had to agree.

---

That was for all of the Barty fans! He is now officially back! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!


	15. The Death Eaters on Easter

Happy Easter dudes! Here's a chapter for the holidays.

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**The Death Eaters on Easter**

"Happy Easter my minions!" Lord Voldemort cried, prancing into the room. He passed them each an Easter card and a packet of muggle mini eggs.

"I love these!" Wormtail squealed in delight, ripping open the packet.

"Too bad you won't be having them then," Barty smirked, grabbing them from him.

"Silence!" Voldemort yelled. "I have a surprise for you all."

"More eggs?" Rabastan asked through his mouthful.

"No," Voldemort replied. "But close. We are going on an Easter day event in the park. There will be egg painting, bonnet making and an Easter egg hunt! Won't that be fun?"

There was silence in the room. The Death Eaters all looked at each other, none of them knew quite what to say. Then Rodolphus coughed and spoke up.

"Er, my lord," he said. "Not to criticize your decisions or anything, but isn't that usually an acticity enjoyed by young muggle children?"

"In case you hadn't noticed," Bellatrix added. "We aren't children."

"Except for Wormtail," Barty smirked, kicking Wormtail off his chair.

"I'm older than you!" He said indignantly.

"Doesn't make you any less tiny," Barty glared.

"Enough!" Voldemort cried. "It will give us the chance to bond like the happy Death Eater family that we are."

"We've tried that before," Rodolphus said. "Trust us, family bonding is not recommendable."

"Nonsense," Voldemort said. "You had a great time."

"Er, yeah," Rodolphus said uncertainly, glancing at Bellatrix.

"Then so will we!" Voldemort insisted. "Won't we." He added dangerously, glaring at his minions.

"Oh yes," they all said quickly.

"Good," Voldemort smiled. "Everyone get ready and meet at the front of the house in five minutes."

"I am not walking to the park!" Bellatrix protested.

"Oh, you won't have to." Voldemort smiled knowingly.

Five minutes later and Voldemort and the Death Eaters were gathered outside.

"Thanks to one of you," Voldemort said, glaring at Bellatrix. "Our mini van is sadly no longer with us. So look what I picked up."

He gestured towards another mini van, painted in flaking white paint.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Voldemort beamed. "I found it in one of those places where muggles dump things that they don't want any more."

"You mean a scrapyard?" Snape said.

"I think that was what the salesman called it," Voldemort replied cheerily. "Now everyone in!"

The Death Eaters piled a little sceptically into the mini van.

"No pushing everyone!" Voldemort said as he took his place in trhe driving seat, Snape sat in the passenger seat and the rest of them sat in the back, except for Wormtail who had to sit on the floor, mainly because the others had taken the seats, but also because Barty hadn't really given him a choice.

"Dolohov, you're stepping on my foot," Bellatrix said, glaring at Dolohov next to her.

"Sorry," Dolohov said, moving his foot.

"Now you're stepping on mine," Rabastan glowered.

"Sorry..."

"Barty, you're stepping on my head," Wormtail whined.

"Oh, am I?" Barty smirked.

"Be quiet you lot!" Voldemort snapped. "We'll be there in a minute. Remember, we're supposed to be bonding. Just think: happy family."

Snape sighed in exhasperation, he actually took orders from this guy?

They arrived at the park a few minutes later, Voldemort opened the sliding doors and the Death Eaters got out and looked around. The usually boring park was decorated in banners and various Easter decorations in sickeningly bright colours. The only Death Eater who didn't seem disgusted by this was Lucius, who looked wistfully over at the bonnet making stall.

"Where shall we go first?" Voldemort asked.

"Home." Muttered Rodolphus.

"What was that?" Voldemort snapped.

"Nothing."

"The bonnet stall!" Lucius cried, which was followed by a groan from the Death Eaters.

"The bonnet stall it is!" Voldemort grinned, and led his minions to a pink and purple stall on which a variety of ready made bonnets were displayed. The stall sttended looked as though she would have a herat attack as the Death Eaters approached her in their trademark black robes and hats.

"We would like to make a bonnet each," Voldemort said.

"Yes, well, of course," The woman said. "Take a seat then."

The Death Eaters sat around the table behind the stall and began to grab at the card.

"Do you have any black?" Voldemort asked the attendant.

"No," she replied.

"What."

"I mean, I'll go and look." She scuttled off at the dangerous glare Voldemort was giving her.

Meanwhile, Lucius had finished his bonnet in record time.

"Ta da!" he said, showing it to the other Death Eaters.

"Erm, that's great, Lucius," Voldemort said, looking warily at it. It was, in truth, rather good. Yellow, pink and purple card flowers were stuck to it and lacy frills bordered the edges. Lucius put it on proudly.

"Attention everyone!" called a voice over the loudspeaker. "The Easter egg hunt will be beginning in five minutes. Please gather at the trophy stall to collect your containers."

"Come on!" Voldemort cried, jumping up.

"An Easter egg hunt?" Rodolphus moaned. "But that's for little kids!" He paused at the murderous glare that Voldemort was giving him and joined to others in reluctantly traipsing to the trophy stall.

"On your marks," said the voice on the loudspeaker. "Get set...GO!"

The Death Eaters raced over the starting line, knocking little children out of the way.

"Quick!" Voldemort cried. "Grab all the eggs you can!" He snatched one off a little boy who began to wail.

"Hey!" His mother said. "Come back here!" Voldemort scuttled off to hide.

Meanwhile, Snape was walking casually around picking up eggs in a relatively normal way. Suddenly, an owl came swooping out of the sky with a letter attacthed to its foot. It landed on a nearby bush, sticking out its leg.

Snape took off the letter and read it.

_Dear Snape_

_Happy Easter. Find enclosed a little present to help you survive until the summer term. _

_Yours sincerly_

_Albus Dumbledore. _

_PS. Give my best to Tom. _

Snape picked up a parcel that had come with the letter and opened it. A whole avalanche of mini eggs burst out of it onto him. A group of passing muggle children saw him covered in eggs.

"Look," said one. "Eggs."

"No," Snape said in horror as the children advanced on him. "No no no...NOOOO!" The children dived onto the pile of eggs. Snape yelled in fear.

Wormtail heard Snape scream. He looked around him nervously. Nobody was there, and yet he felt as though someone was watching him.

"All right Barty," he said. "Come out. Joke's over."

But Barty did not come out.

"Barty?"

He gulped and looked around him, and gave a yell as he came face to face with a tall furry faced creature.

"Hello," the creature said, althought its mouth wasn't moving. "I am the Easter bunny!"

"Don't hurt me!" Wormtail cowered at the muggle in the costume.

"I won't hurt you!" The Easter bunny said. "I want to be your friend!"

Wormtail ran away screaming.

Barty froze. He had heard Wormtail scream, someone else must have frightened him. He would go and see if he could help them.

Suddenly, a muggle in a large rabbit costume jumped out of the bushes.

"Hello," it said. "I am the Easter bunny. Will you be my friend?"

"No." Barty said.

"Let's play hide and seek!" The bunny said.

"Fine," Barty said. "You're it." And he ran off as fast as his legs could carry him.

Voldemort crept backwards slowly. The mother of that little boy had gathered followers all out to get him, he had to hide. He took another step backwards and yelled as he collided with something.

"My lord!" Snape said. "It's only me!"

"Oh thank goodness," Voldemort gasped. "I though you were...oh never mind. Have you seen the others?"

"No," Snape said. "None of them. I just escaped from the little muggle kids."

"Vicious little tykes aren't they," Voldemort said. Snape nodded.

"THERE HE IS!" Came a shout. Voldemort turned even whiter than normal as a hord of angry mothers ran towards them.

"RUN!" He cried, and he and Snape ran. "Quick! Up here!" He said, and they scooted up a tree. The mothers ran past and they let out a sigh of relief.

"Who are you running from then?" Said someone from behind them, causing them to jump and spin around. Wormtail, goodness knows how he got up, was sitting in the tree behind them.

"Where is everyone?" Voldemort asked. "And what happened to you? You look like you had quite a scare."

"I did," Wormtail said. "There's a terrifying evil creature on the prowl around here. With huge ears, massive claws and razor sharp teeth. It is so terrifying it could make grown men cower in fear."

"Bellatrix?" Snape asked.

"No," Wormtail replied. "It's some sort of rabbit."

"And it's going after the others I'll be bound," Voldemort said. "We have to get them all together, but how?"

"This way!" Said a voice from the ground. The three of them looked down. The rest of the Death Eaters were in some sort of pack below, wands out, glancing nervously around.

"Up here!" Voldemort said. They looked up and sighed in relief, scrambling up the tree.

"D-did you see it too?" Barty asked. He was paper white and trembling.

"The rabbit?" Wormtail asked. "I saw it."

"We all did," Dolohov added. "Crabbe and Goyle thought it was some sort of fluffy cream cake though," he said, glancing at the two Death Eaters who were gazing gormlessly into space.

"Did anyone else get chased away by the mothers?" Voldemort said.

"No that's just you," Snape replied.

"There is no way we can go back down there," Bellatrix said. "Anyone got a plan?"

"Yes!" Voldemort said. "As a matter of fact, I have a perfect plan that will get us all out of here and home. Nothing can go wrong."

"I'm sure," said Snape sarcastically.

A few minutes later and Barty and Snape crept across the park towards the egg painting stall. Most of the visitors were on the rampage elsewhere, searching for Voldemort and whoever terrorized the Easter bunny, making their job a whole lot easier.

"I don't know why I had to get stuck with you," Snape snarled. "Of all the Death Eaters, I had to go with the most immature, childish, most annoying..."

"Well I'm not too thrilled either," Barty replied. "But Dolohov was going with Rabastan."

"Let's just get the eggs, OK?" Snape snapped.

"Fine." Barty replied, and they hurried across the park. Snape drew out a plastic bag and they filled it with the eggs from the stall. They looked around, and ran back. Phase one was complete.

"Where are they?" Asked an angry mother.

"I don't know but we _will _find them, don't you worry," said another. "Scaring my baby like that. Honestly. These people should be locked up."

"Look!" Cried the first mother. "There's that odd faced one, the one who scared your Michael.

"Get him!" Cried the other, and they all charged towards Voldemort.

"CHARGE!" Voldemort yelled, and the Death Eaters stepped out from behind the trees and began to pelt the muggles with eggs, racing towards the park gate. They made it out and jumped into the mini van, they were just about to close the door when suddenly the voice over the loudspeaker called:

"And the winner of the bonnet comeptition, Lucius Malfoy! Please come to the trophy stall to claim your prize."

"Yes!" Lucius cried, elated. "I won!" And he ran out of the car and towards the stall, blissfully oblivious of the furious mothers."

"NOOOOO!" The Death Eater cried as he ran back into the park.

SPLAT.

Lucius got back into the car a minute later, carrying his trophy and bonnet, covered in egg. Voldemort drove off quickly.

"No more family bonding for us then." Voldemort said. "I did tell you all it was a bad idea."

---

Happy Easter everyone! Next chapter coming soon!


	16. Barty has access to time and space

Bonjourno and salutations to all my faithful reviewers. I was sitting at the computer, twirling around in the chair, stuck for ideas for a new chapter. Then an evil idea hit me. Yes I know, Barty has been in a lot of chapters already but hey, everyone likes him, so why not star him in another? For all you British readers and reviewers out there, (I don't _think _it's been shown in America yet but apologise if it has. Anyone who knows please tell me,) at precisely 7:15 tonight, the first episode of the new Doctor Who series is being shown on BBC1. I am watching it of course, and Barty stars in it. Well he's not _really _Barty, but he's David Tennant anyway, so I thought I'd have some fun with the evil idea that Barty has access to time and space. This cannot be good.

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**Barty has access to time and space**

Lord Voldemort was in the living room on his own. He was standing on a step ladder and was carefully putting the finishing touches to his huge card castle. Empty packets of cards were strewn on the floor and there was a notice on the door saying _Do not enter on pain of death. _Voldemort was trying to break the record for the tallest card castle, and all he needed to do was put the last card on, take his camera beside him and take a picture of it.

He had been working on this for eight days, and it was nearly finished.

He gave an emotional sniff as he put the last card on the top and got down from the step ladder to pick up his camera. He wound on the film, and put the lens to his eyes. He focused the camera and pressed the button, just as a tremendously loud whirring siren sounded from outside the house, collapsing his castle. He looked at the picture as it came out, hoping with all his might that he had managed to take the picture in time. He gave a scream of frustration as he realised that instead of taking a picture of the biggest card castle in the world, he had taken a picture of the biggest collapsed pile of cards in the world.

He threw the camera aside and stomped across the room, flung open the door and marched outside, determined to find the source of that evil noise and punish whoever was responsible. He was a little taken aback as he saw what had materialised in the front garden. It was a deep blue police box, with a blue light on the top.

Furious, he marched up to it and banged on the door.

"Open up!" He cried, as the rest of the Death Eaters poured out of the house onto the lawn. "OPEN UP!" Nobody answered.

"Alohomora!" He cried, and the door flung open. He stormed inside and jumped. The supposedly tiny police box was massive. He had walked into some sort of control room, and standing on the other side of the room in a brown jacket and a pinstripe suit, was Barty.

"Hello my lord," Barty smirked. "So nice of you to drop in."

"What are you wearing?" Voldemort asked. "You don't need glasses! What is this place? Who is SHE?"

He glared at a blond girl who had just come out of a room.

Barty blushed.

"Er, no one," he said, looking at his shoes.

"Oh ho!" Voldemort cried triumphantly. "Going after muggle girls now are we? Now the penny drops! Honestly, a pure blood like yourself, with a-a-muggle!"

Barty had gone bright red.

"And you are…" The girl asked.

"I am Lord Voldemort, ruler of the world!" Voldemort replied.

"O-kay…" she said. "I'm Rose Tyler, pleased to meet you."

"Well I am NOT pleased to meet you," Voldemort snapped. "This is MY minion, and I would thank you to leave him alone."

"What is this place anyway?" Dolohov asked.

"It's called the TARDIS," Barty replied, glad to change the subject. "It stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space."

"It stands for 'plotting behind your master's back' to me," Voldemort glared.

"That's right!" Wormtail said. "Punish him m'lord."

"Shut up Wormtail," Voldemort said, kicking him over. "Now what are we going to do about this. I'll tell you what." He stormed over and slammed his hand down on a big red button.

"Out! All of you!" He ordered, and, grabbing Barty by his ear, dragged him outside and kicked the door shut.

"Rose!" Barty cried as the TARDIS disappeared.

"_Rose!" _Voldemort mimicked. "You, Bartemius Crouch Junior, are grounded. No more TARDIS, no more plotting, no more TV, and DEFINITELY no more girls. Now get inside!"

"But my lord!" Barty protested. "You can't ground me, I'm not a kid!"

"No buts, Barty, two weeks in your room should give you time to think about what you have done.

"But my father-"

"Would feel the damn same way," The dark lord snapped. "Now get upstairs!"

The other Death Eaters were standing, shell shocked in the garden.

"What just happened?" Dolohov asked.

"Dunno," Lucius replied. "Cookie?"

-----

Mwa ha ha! I hoped you enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it! And does anyone know if Doctor Who is on TV in America? It would be interesting to find out.

Chao bambinos.


	17. The Death Eaters in another dimension

Yet again, I am bored, having watched _New Earth _again (and sniggered a lot at Barty being possessed), I decided to write an exceedingly pointless chapter in which everyone will be confused. So here we are.

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**The Death Eaters fall into another dimension**

"Why is it so necessary to get _all _of the strawberry jam?" Dolohov asked as he and the rest of the Death Eaters gathered around the fireplace where Voldemort was standing addressing them.

"Because," Voldemort replied, shooting an angry glare at his minion. "Last time we ran out of jam, an exceedingly incompetent fool went to retrieve some more, and it was blackberry.

Wormtail blushed and scuffed his shoes on the ground.

"So this time, we're ALL going," he said. "Well, not Barty, he's grounded, but the rest of us anyway."

"He's been grounded for three weeks now," Rodolphus piped up timidly. "Don't you think he's suffered enough?"

Voldemort fumed.

"What," he said. "After he put that-that-THING on the front lawn, collapsing my tower of cards?"

"And had a muggle with him," Wormtail added.

"Shut up." Voldemort snapped, kicking him over. "_AND _had a muggle with him. So no, he can jolly well stay there. Now, are we all ready to go? Remember. We're going to the preserve shop. All right?"

The others nodded.

"Right," Voldemort said, stepping into the fire place and taking a pinch of floo powder. "Patsy's Preserves." He said clearly, and vanished.

Voldemort stepped out of the fireplace, brushed off the soot and looked around. At merely a first glance, he could confirm fairly accurately that he was not inside 'Patsy's Preserves.'

Dolohov tumbled onto the hearth behind him.

"Whoa," he said. "Where are we?"

Voldemort was staring around, a little confused. They were not in any particular room. They weren't _in _anything, to be precise. Surrounding them was just darkness, although it was quite easy to see.

They were in something that resembled space, but with no stars, moons, or planets. Although there was no particular floor, the two confused wizards seemed to be standing perfectly well.

At that moment, Bellatrix appeared, followed by the others. At last, Rodolphus appeared, tripped over the grate and crashed into his wife, sending her flying.

"RODOLPHUS!" She cried. "I BROKE A NAIL! How COULD you?"

She flew at him in a rage, but he was too quick, drew out his wand and cried,

"Stupefy!" Nothing happened. "STUPEFY!" Still nothing happened. "STUPEFY DAMMIT!"

It was too late, he threw his wand aside in frustration and stared in terror at his advancing wife, fists raised.

Meanwhile, back at the house, Barty crept down the stairs. He peered around the door of the living room and his heart leapt. They were gone. Yes!

He walked over to the fireplace and looked at the pot of floo powder. Yup, they had definitely used it. He grinned.

For, unbeknownced to his fellow Death Eaters, he had crept downstairs in the middle of the night and replaced the normal floo powder with 'Other Dimension Powder' courtesy of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Instead of transporting the victim to wherever they wanted, it transported them to another dimension, in which magic did not work.

Why, you ask? Well, you'll find out soon.

Barty gave another evil grin and swept out of the room to change from his black robes into something a little more fitting.

"Calm down," Voldemort said. "Just breath deeply. Count to ten, come on."

He and Dolohov were restraining Bellatrix. She had just suceeded in knocking Rodolphus unconcious.

"Is he breathing?" Voldemort asked Rabastan who was pressing his ear against his brothers chest.

"Yeah," Rabastan replied. "He's fine. But there's one thing I don't get. His wand didn't work. Why was that?"

Voldemort took out a lemon drop from his pocket, held it in his hand and drew out his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he said. The lemon drop did not move.

"Wingardium Leviosa." He said again, still nothing. "Wingardium Leviosa." He said firmly and commandingly, as if daring the lemon drop not to move. However it still remained perfectly motionless.

"Magic doesn't work here," he said. "Curses. Come on, back to the fireplace."

They turned around, but the fireplace was gone.

"NOOOO!" Voldemort cried.

The doorbell rang back at the house. Barty ran to the door, his heart racing. The 'Other Dimension Powder' was guaranteed to keep victims trapped for over two hours. More than he would need.

He glanced at himself in the hall mirror. He was wearing his pinstriped jacket and large brown overcoat again, complete with white trainers. He had just enough time to check his teeth and fix his hair before flinging open the door with a beaming grin.

"Hello!" He said to the visitor. Rose Tyler smiled back. She looked a little warily around him at the hall behind.

"Where's that Voldything guy?" She asked.

"He's out," he said. "They all are. Won't be back for two hours at least."

"Oh."

There was an akward silence between them. He looked at his fingernails and she looked casually around the garden.

"So..." he said. "Tea? I've got those little china teacups you like."

"OK," Rose replied, and stepped into the house.

She followed Barty through the house, looking nervously at the pictures of the Death Eaters and various family outings that they had had. She stepped into the kitchen, where various cooking medals belonging to Lucius were hanging.

Barty had set the table for two people, with a quaint china teaset belonging to Voldemort. He would go mad if he knew that Barty was using it, but he wouldn't be back for two hours. He'd never find out.

"Custard cream?" Barty offered after he and Rose had sat down. She took one tentively.

"Thanks," she said, taking a nervous nibble out of it.

Barty tried to control his breathing. Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out.

"What are you doing?" Rose asked. Barty jumped and realising that he had been very noisy about his inhaling and exhaling.

"Just, you know, practising my breathing," he said, turning red. "Soon I'll be ready to turn pro!"

"Riiight," she said.

"Rodolphus," Voldemort said loudly. "CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

Rodolphus sat up groggily. He rubbed his head, and then remembered. He stood up and glared at Bellatrix.

"You." He said angrily.

"Now now," Voldemort said. "Let's not start this again. Ahem. Rodolphus, don't you have something to say to Bellatrix?" There was a minute of silence in which Rodolphus looked defiantly at his wife, and Bellatrix looked at her nails casually.

"I'm sorry," he said grudgingly.

"Good!" Voldemort smiled. "Now Bellatrix, have you got something to say to your, _dear _husband?"

"I'm sorry I knocked you out," she replied.

"Good!" Voldemort said again. "Now. Can we _please _find a way out of here. Firstly, does anyone know how we got here?"

"Ooo! Ooo! Pick me!" Wormtail said, bouncing up and down with his hand in the air.

"Yes, Wormtail," Voldemort sighed.

"It was Barty!" Wormtail said.

"Oh please," Voldemort said. "You'd blame the Earth's orbit on Barty."

"No really!" Wormtail insisted. "It was! I saw him sneaking downstairs last night with 'Other Dimension Powder', and he threatened me not to tell you!"

"Why would he do this exactly?" Voldemort asked. "Did he tell you."

"Yes he did!" Wormtail beamed proudly. "He's having that muggle girl, Rose, over for tea."

"WHAT!" Voldemort exploded.

"_With _your special china teaset," Wormtail added with a smirk.

"Right," Voldemort said angrily. "I don't care how damn difficult it is, I AM getting out of here."

"Er, that's just it," Wormtail continued. "You can't. The powder lasts for two hours."

"Damn!" Voldemort cursed. Then, gave an evil grin. He drew out a mobile phone from his pocket and began to dial a number.

"Hello," he said to the voice on the other end of the line. "This is Lord Voldemort. Can I please have the SWAT team to my house now? Thanks. Yeah, it's him again. So sorry for the inconvinience. OK, bye."

He smiled nastily and clicked his phone shut. Meanwhile...

"Are you all right Doctor?" Rose asked, as Barty lifted up his teacup. His hand was shaking so badly that tea was sploshing everywhere.

"I'm fine," he said. "Just, checking it's... earthquake resistant."

"We're in Britain," Rose replied flatly. "We don't get earthquakes here."

"Can't be too careful," Barty replied. "You never know."

"I'm beginning to think you're getting paranoid," Rose said.

"No," Barty sighed, putting down his teacup. "I'm not paranoid, I just really-"

Just at that moment, the door crashed down, Barty knocked over his teacup in fright, and at least seven men dressed in black with rifles burst into the room.

"I didn't do it!" Barty cried.

"What is going on?" Rose asked.

"Oh I'll tell you what's going on," said a dangerously quiet voice. Barty turned around slowly and saw Lord Voldemort glaring at him.

"Busted." Wormtail sneered at him.

"May I enquire as to why you are dressed like that?" Voldemort asked. "Why we were stuck in another dimension for over two hours? Why you are using my best teaset? And why this muggle girl is here again?"

"Those are all really complicated questions," Barty said, forcing a grin. "And I'm sure I could answer them with a cup of tea for everyone!"

"Bartemius Crouch Junior," Voldemort said. "You have just earned yourself another four weeks of solitary confinement."

"I'm sorry, what did he just call you?" Rose asked, speaking up for the first time. "I thought you were the Doctor."

"I am!" Barty insisted. "That's just my...nickname!"

"Yeah right!" Rose said. "You've been lying to me! I can't believe I was stupid enough to fall for it as well! I liked you! I thought you liked me too."

She stormed out of the room.

"No, wait Rose!" Barty said. "I do like you, I-" The front door slammed.

There was silence in the house.

"Oh how touching," Voldemort said. "You! Upstairs! Now!"

Wormtail sniggered as Barty stomped upstairs. And for once, Barty didn't get his revenge.

"Hi guys," the SWAT team said. The Death Eaters nodded curtly.

"They've been eating my cupcakes!" Lucius said in horror, descending on a plate of half eaten fairy cakes.

---

Hope that was random enough for you. Poor Barty, I almost feel sorry for the guy. Stay tuned!


	18. Wormtail wants to be taller

Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak.

-----

**Wormtail wants to be taller**

Wormtail stood in front of his full length mirror to look at himself. He was just over half the size of it. He frowned and tried to stand on his toes. No good. He had been working for weeks, by putting all sorts of charms and spells on himself to get taller, but to no avail. He looked up at his aim, marked in blue crayon on his mirror. It was much too far away.

He sighed. All of the other Death Eaters were taller than him. Voldemort as well, of course. But he had always been taller than him. The tallest of the Death Eaters were probably Rodolphus and Barty.

Barty. He glared at the mirror as he thought of him. If only he was as tall as he was, nobody would kick him around or pick on him or order him to do anything. He simply _had _to find a way. But how?

He walked over to his 'Get tall quick' magazine and turned to the front page.

'_Do you want to be taller?' _It read. Wormtail nodded glumly and read on. _'Are your fellow employees bossing you around because you are short?'_

Wormtail nodded again. _'Do you work day and night for your boss but all he does is order you around without a word of thanks?' _Wormtailsighed. _'Then you need to take Terry's top two tips to tallness! Read on to find out how._

_1. Try wearing taller shoes. These are a guaranteed height enhancer. _

_2. Wear stilts. These will also work, but are not reccommended for inside use. _

After reading this, Wormtail leapt off the bed with a joyful squeak. He _would _become taller! Ha! His annoying comrades would _have _to respect him!

What was first on the list? Wear taller shoes. Wormtail rummaged in his cupboard. He didn't have any tall shoes. But who did? Well, Bellatrix, but she would probably murder him if she found him in her room. What about Lucius? He was at his Saturday baking classes. His room was empty!

Wormtail crept across the hallway to Lucius's bedroom. He opened the door and closed it carefully behind him. He turned around, and nearly had a heart attack.

Instead of the average black that most Death Eater's rooms were decorated with, Lucius Malfoy's room was pink. Frilly curtains bordered the windows, the walls were painted pink. The carpet and ceiling were pink, and the sheets on his bed were the most vibrant shade of pink Wormtail had ever seen.

A little unerved by this attack of colour, Wormtail walked across the room and opened the cupboard.

Lucius did not just have one or two pairs of shoes, he had thousands. The cupboard stretched back for miles it seemed. Luckily for Wormtail, he had spotted a pair of tall high heeled shoes, that Lucius always wore to reach to the highest kitchen cupboards. He took them down from their shelf, closed the door and tried them on. They were a bit big for him, but stuffed with tissue paper and they would be fine.

He clopped out of the room in them, closed the door behind him and crept across the landing again. Luckily for him, the others were downstairs playing cards and Barty was grounded.

"What are you doing?" Said a voice, Wormtail jumped and spun around. Barty was leaning against the wall, glaring at him.

"N-nothing," Wormtail said, cowering.

"Yeah right," Barty said. "You look different."

"Must be the new shampoo I've been using," Wormtail forced a grin. "Anyway, better be off."

"Oh no you don't," Barty said, stepping in front of him. "You've been in Lucius's room."

"Aren't you supposed to be grounded anyway?" Wormtail asked.

"So?" Barty shrugged. "You're wearing Lucius's shoes. Want to be taller do you?"

"Don't tell, please," Wormtail begged. Barty grinned evilly.

"Why not?" He asked. "You told Voldemort that Rose was coming for tea."

"Just a little joke," Wormtail gave a nervous chuckle.

"Well I didn't find it very funny."

"Sorry!" Wormtail cowered again.

"I won't tell on you if you swear you won't snitch on me ever again," Barty retorted.

"Fine, yes, fine," Wormtail said, and scurried off. Barty grinned evilly.

"Well that didn't work," Wormtail snarled, taking the shoes off as he got back into his room. "Barty's still picking on me. What was next?" He read the magazine. "Wear stilts. Oh please, that's crazy, that's stupid, that's genius! Now where do I get a pair of stilts?" He thought hard, none of the Death eaters were particularly likely to own a pair of stilts. So where could he get some? Yes! Voldemort had a pair from the early stages of his card castle attempt. He kept them in the cupboard downstairs. But he was in the living room with the others, and the cupboard was just outside the door! If Voldemort caught him with anything belonging to him, he would leap at the excuse to punish him.

He tiptoed downstairs and opened the door of the cupboard.

"Ha!" He heard Voldemort cry from the other room. "Snap!"

"Er, we're not playing Snap, m'lord," he heard Rodolphus say. "We're playing Go Fish."

"What."

"I mean, we're playing Snap, of course," Rodolphus said quickly at the dangerous glare his master was giving him. "My mistake."

Wormtail looked in the cupboard. No! The stilts were on the highest shelf, if only he was tall enough to reach them! But then, upon further consideration, he realised that if he was taller then he wouldn't need stilts, therefore defying any purpose he would have for sneaking into the downstairs cupboard to get them.

"Well well well," said a sneering voice from behind him. He turned around, Snape was standing there, giving Wormtail his trademark evil leer.

"It's not what it looks like!" Wormtail said, stumbling out of the cupboard.

"Trying to get the stilts are we Wormtail?" Snape said. "Now why would you be doing that? Oh! You want to be taller! How quaint, how sweet, how adorably naive."

"What's wrong with wanting to be taller?" Wormtail asked.

"You want to be a man don't you!" Snape smirked. "You want to be more manly!"

"Please Snape, please!" Wormtail begged. "I want to be taller so much! If I was taller, Barty wouldn't pick on me, Voldemort wouldn't boss me around, everyone would have so much more respect for me. All of my life I have faced torment, shame and ridicule, and why? Because I was short! So please, please Snape. Don't ruin this chance for me, this one chance that I might have of finally becoming respected."

"Well isn't that the heart melting speech of the year," Snape said nastily. "We'll just see what the dark lord has to say about that." He was just about to sweep menacingly into the living room, but Wormtail was too quick. He drew out his wand, yelled: "Obliviate!" And the spell hit Snape in the back of his head. He toppled to the ground with a thud and then stood up, looking dazed and confused.

"Oh, hello Peter," he said to Wormtail. "What am I doing here? Oh well, better go and make up reasons for Potter to get detention. Bye!"

And he walked off aimlessly in the direction of the basement.

Wormtail peered around the door, amazed that Voldemort hadn't heard any of that. But at closer observation, he realised that the dark lord was having a good time yelling at Dolohov for snapping one of his cards. He couldn't have heard anything over the racket he was making.

Wormtail turned back to the cupboard and raised his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa." He said clearly, and the stilts came floating down to his side.

He strapped them onto his feet and stood up. He was a bit wobbly. Correction, very wobbly.

He walked into the living room, which was going fine, until he smashed his head into the lampshade and came crashing down, scattering cards everywhere.

"WORMTAIL!" Voldemort yelled, fuming. The other Death Eaters were watching in astonishment. "What WERE you thinking?"

"I just wanted to be taller my lord," Wormtail sighed. "Everyone always picks on me and I thought that if I was taller then you would all have a bit more respect for me."

"Oh Wormtail," Voldemort said, his face losing it's anger. "I never want you to feel that way again. We do respect you. And I want you to feel that if you ever have anything you want to share with anyone, just come to us."

"Really?" Wormtail sniffed. "You mean it."

"NO!" Voldemort yelled. "YOU, Wormtail, are on kitchen duty for the rest of the week with Lucius. NOW GO!"

Wormtail unstrapped the stilts from his feet and walked out of the room, rather depressed.

Lucius was in the kitchen baking cookies.

"Hello," he smiled. "Kitchen duty again, is it?"

Wormtail nodded glumly, and sat on a stool beside Lucius at the worksurface.

"What happened?" Lucius asked.

"I just wanted to be taller!" Wormtail burst out. "I just wanted to feel more respected and more appreciated. I though if I borrowed Voldemort's stilts, Barty wouldn't push me around but I was wrong!" He burst into tears.

"Oh come now," Lucius said. "Dear dear look at this." He handed Wormtail a handkerchief which Wormtail blew his nose into noisily.

"Barty may be tall," Lucius continued. "But frankly, he's a freak. Look at me! I'm tall, but people don't respect me."

"That's probably because you bake fairy cakes on a regular basis," Wormtail sniffed.

"But I love it!" Lucius smiled. "I can be me, regardless of what people think, and I don't intend on changing. Just be yourself, and stand up to Barty. People will respect you more. I promise."

"Yeah!" Wormtail said, cheering up. "I'll do that!"

At that moment, Barty sauntered into the kitchen, grabbed one of Lucius's cookies and munched on it, smirking at Wormtail."

"I see you didn't need me to get into trouble this time, well done!" He said.

Wormtail turned around, jumped off his stool and marched over to Barty.

"Leave me alone Crouch," he glared.

"Oooh, scary," Barty sneered. "What are you planning on doing eh? Biting my kneecaps?"

"You can't pick on me any more," Wormtail said. "It's finished!"

And he marched away, however stumbled to the ground and got a face full of jam tart which Barty had 'accidentally' left there.

"Oh, I think you'll find I can," Barty sniggered. "You are so pathetic. Trying to make yourself more of a man by wearing stilts and Lucius's best high heels. It won't work. You're still a weed."

"Lucius!" Wormtail whined.

"_Lucius!_" Barty mimicked. "I see you girls stick together."

Lucius, meanwhile, had turned around and was glaring, not at Barty, but at Wormtail.

"What?" Wormtail asked.

"You wore my shoes?" Lucius said furiously, threough gritted teeth.

"It was just for-" Wormtail began, but backed slowly away as Lucius grabbed a cream pie that he had made for tea.

Barty smirked as Wormtail got a face full of cream pie. Some things never changed.

---

MWA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

Next chappy: The Death Eaters do some babysitting.

Two words. Oh dear.


	19. The Death Eaters do some babysitting

Happy half term freaks! I was sitting around not doing much one day, thinking about what the Death Eaters feared most. Well, what is it? Some fics think it's black liqourice, some think it's Voldemort coming home and finding the garden a tip and his cyprus tree upturned. But I happen to think it is something much worse, something so evil that none of them will ever forget that terrible day. Read on to find out why...

---

**The Death Eaters do some babysitting**

The Death Eaters were sitting in the living room playing cards. The recent failure of Lord Voldemort's record attempt had meant that he had tried to avoid cards at all costs. But he was bored, and so had to make do with playing snap with the others.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"Curses!" Voldemort grumbled. "Wait there."

He stalked out of the room and over to the door. He flung it open, and stepped back in fright.

"Oh, Mrs Mallory!" Voldemort said, trying to sound pleased. Mrs Mallory was one of their neighbours. She was a very 'Aunt Petunia like' character, who always wanted to know what was going on, and loved nothing more than to poke her nose into other people's bussiness. "What brings you here?"

"Good morning Mr Riddle," she said briskly, causing Voldemort to wince. "Now I know that you and your friends are an odd bunch, but everyone else is either busy or too scared, so I have come to you to ask if you could possibly babysit my darling little Stewart this afternoon."

"Er, well," Voldemort stammered. "I'm not sure if..."

"Excellent," she said. "I'll be back around eight. And he better be good."

She pushed the little boy towards him. "Bye!" And she walked off down the garden path before Voldemort had time to protest.

He looked down at the little boy. He knew Stewart Mallory well, he was an innocent looking six year old boy. But he was a complete tearaway, and now Voldemort was stuck looking after him for eleven hours.

When he arrived back in the living room with a little muggle boy by his side, their expressions varied from ones of confusion to horror.

"We are going to be looking after this...sweet little chap until eight o' clock this evening," Voldemort said, forcing a grin. "His name is Steven Mallory and he's six years old."

"I'll be seven in October," the little boy piped up. "And my name isn't Steven. It's Stewart."

"Right whatever," Voldemort replied. "Death Eater meeting!"

He and the others gathered around the table in the middle of the room.

"My lord," Dolohov said. "Why are we looking after Stewart Mallory?"

"Because," Voldemort replied. "We need to keep our cover in this neighbourhood. That boys mother is the nosiest person in the area. She has seen everything remotely odd going on in this house. Such as the large number of owls, Wormtail zooming up the garden path in a trolley, and a certain large blue police box on the front lawn." He glared at Barty. "But anyway, if Stewart tells his mother that anything strange has happened to him then we'll be found out! We have to act like muggles."

"Well how hard can it be to look after a six year old boy?" Rodolphus asked.

And, right on cue, Stewart knocked one of Voldemort's porcelain puppy ornaments off the shelf.

"NOOOOO!" Voldemort cried, diving for it, but it was too late, the puppy collided with the floor and smashed into tiny pieces.

"Uh oh..." Dolohov said.

"GET HIM!" Voldemort yelled, and soon, the Death Eaters were running around the house after the little boy. They gathered back in the living room ten minutes later.

"Who's got him?" Voldemort asked. Everyone looked at each other. Nobody had. "Right," he continued. "A six year old from hell is somewhere in this house. Your mission, which you WILL except is to find and retrieve him without magic."

"But how?" Lucius asked. "We'll never find him together."

"Then we'll have to split up," Voldemort gulped. "All of us. This house is so big he could be anywhere. Now get going."

The Death Eaters stepped out of the door and went their separate ways. Public enemy number one, Stewart Mallory, was somewhere inside this house, and they had to find him.

Rodolphus crept up the stairs and along the landing. His heartwas beating fast. He coudn't hear or see any sign of the other Death Eaters, let alone Stewart Mallory, and yet as he crept along the various passageways and staircases, he couldn't help but feel as though he was being watched.

"St-Stewart?" He asked nervously. "I'm not scared you know."

Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him getting faster and faster. He spun around.

"AAARRRGGGHHH!"

The scream rang through the house. All of the Death Eaters shook in fear as they heard it.

Lucius was scanning the kitchen. Little kids loved sugary snacks. Stewart was bound to descend on it eventually.

He hid under the table and lay in wait, net in hand for Stewarts appearance.

The house was silent. The only sound Lucius could hear was his own breathing. Wait. There was another sound. Footsteps.

Lucius's heart began to beat faster as someone walked into the kitchen and reached for the cookie jar.

"Gotcha!" Lucius yelled as he leapt out from under the table and threw a net over his victim. A few seconds later and he realised the mistake he had made.

"Malfoy get this thing off me NOW!" Lord Voldemort yelled.

"I'm sorry my Lord!" Lucius cried, fumbling with the net. "I thought you were Stewart!"

Voldmeort threw the net off and glared at his minion.

"I just wanted a cookie!" Voldemort scowled.

"Did you hear Rodolphus scream eariler?" Lucius asked, handing him a cookie. Voldemort nodded.

"Come on," he said. "We have to find him."

They walked out of the kitchen cautiously, and suddenly there was a yell from the dining room.

"Barty!" They said together and rushed into the room, just in time to see a blur of six year old boy zooming out of the door cackling evilly.

Lucius and Voldemort peered nervously into the room. Barty was hanging upside down by his ankles, suspended from the ceiling.

"That kid's a natural," he grumbled.

Voldemort and Lucius ran out of the room after Stewart.

"I'll just wait here then," Barty said.

"He went that way! Quick!" Voldemort cried as he and Lucius stumbled up the stairs and ran along the corridor.

Stewart ran as fast as he could, closely persued by Voldemort and Lucius.

"In there!" Voldemort cried as Stewart dove into Lucius's room. They rushed in. Stewart was standing beside Lucius's shoe cupboard. He opened the door, jumped inside and, with a heart stopping crash, the shoes came tumbling down in a massive mountain outside the door. Stewart appeared from it, grinnign evilly. However his expression turned to one of terror as Lucius glared at him furiously.

"Those were my shoes," he said in a dangerously quiet voice.

"Uh oh, you've blown it now," Voldemort said to Stewart who was cowering in the corner before Lucius leapt at him with a blood curdling scream.

xxx

Voldemort and Lucius gathered all the Death Eaters in the living room. Two were missing. They found Rodolphus cowering in a broom cupboard and Barty still suspended from the ceiling. When they had finally all arrived, they tied Stewart to a chair and sat down, glaring at him.

"You are not a normal child," Voldemort said. "You are an evil demon boy, but you WILL stay in that chair until 8 o' clock." Stewart nodded meekly.

"Now suprisingly," Voldemort continued. "I have better things to do with my time than watch little kids, so I will make my minions watch you in turn. Wormtail! You first!"

xxx

There was silence. Wormtail sat in the armchair, trying to look anywhere except at Stewart, who was fixing him with a motionless, unblinking glare. Wormtail gripped the arms of the chair harder. He was fully aware of the small beads of sweat on his forehead as Stewart glared harder.

"Stop it!" squeaked Wormtail. "Stop it now!"

But Stewart just glared even more. Wormtail squeaked and ran out of the room.

"Bellatrix!" He yelled. "Your go!"

Bellatrix walked into the room, strode across it and sat down casually in the chair and began filing her nails without giving Stewart a second glance. He glared and glared but to no avail. Bellatrix just ignored him and carried on filing her nails. She glanced at him after a few minutes and saw him glaring at her.

"There's no use looking at me like that darling," she said. "You can't scare me."

And she resumed to filing her nails.

Stewart stopped glaring and thought. A small chipped piece of china from Voldemort's porcelain puppy was lying on the arm of his chair. If he could just reach it...

Stewart wriggled one of his hands free, and, with careful aim, flicked it in the direction of Bellatrix. It hit her nail file which went spinning out of control and chipped one of her nails. Bellatrix gave a scream of fright.

"NO!" She cried. "YEARS OF TLC AND NOW THIS!" She stood up, and ran out of the room shrieking. Barty was standing outside.

"You better get in that room Crouch," she said. "And you better do it NOW!"

"OK, OK," Barty said. "Calm down, it's just a nail."

"Just a nail," Bellatrix said, turning around slowly, and glaring at him with one of those looks that would make any other Death Eater cower in fright. Barty just raised an eyebrow in mild amusement as Bellatrix ranted.

"TWO YEARS I WORKED ON THESE THINGS!" She continued. "THROUGH AZKABAN AND EVERYTHING! BUT OF COURSE YOU COULDN'T KNOW ABOUT THAT. _YOU _WERE OUT OF THERE THANKS TO YOUR DARLING PRECIOUS MOTHER."

Barty stiffened. Not many things annoyed him. Wormtail was one, but another thing that really ticked him off was people talking about his dearly departed mother just like Bellatrix was now.

"Don't," he said through gritted teeth, beginning to draw his wand. "Talk. About. My mother."

"Aw, little mummy's boy are we?" Bellatrix sneered.

Barty snapped.

He drew out his wand and aimed a curse at Bellatrix. She blocked it wandlessly, then drew out her own wand and fired back.

At that point, the rest of the Death Eaters ran into view, and stared in astonishment. Thank Slytherin the living room door was closed.

"WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?" Voldemort yelled at them. They dropped their wands at once and started shouting.

"He started it!"

"No _she _started it!"

"He was mean about my nail!"

"She talked about my mother!"

"Oh no, not his mother," Dolohov winced.

"Look I don't care what happened," Voldemort said. "Lestrange, you get up to your room, Crouch, you get in there and pray that the little brat didn't hear anything."

With one last murderous glare at each other, the two Death Eaters walked off. Barty slammed the door behind him.

Stewart looked around. Barty grinned evilly at him, and he glared back.

Instead of sitting in the chair like the others had done, Barty walked slowly over to Stewarts chair and paced around it, looking at the little boy.

"That was quite a stunt you pulled on me," Barty said, breaking the awkward silence. "Couldn't have done it better myself. Well, actually, I could, and I would have done it without all of the little errors that yours had."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Stewart said.

"A real practical joker would have realised the terrible flaw in your execution of it," The Death Eater replied. "Even you know that the rope was a little off target, I didn't go nearly high enough in the air."

He walked over to the chair and flopped into it, facing the boy.

"I add my own touches to my jokes," Stewart said. "I'm not an old fashioned wannabe like you."

Barty raised his eyebrows slightly at this comment. He had to admit, this kid was just like him. Except for the whole wizard thing.

He suddenly, looked at the clock. It was 8 o' clock pm! At that moment the doorbell rang. he quickly untied Stewart, grabbed him firmly by his shoulder and walked him out of the room. Voldemort grabbed the boy and ushered him towards the door. He flung it opened and saw Mrs Mallory on the other side.

"Hello Tom," she said before Voldemort could speak. "I trust Stewart had a good time."

"He had a great time," Voldemort replied as Stewart walked out of the door. "Didn't you." He glared at him.

Stewart nodded.

"Excellent," she said. "Well thank you very much Mr Riddle. I will see you soon."

Voldemort closed the door with a last wave and gave a sigh of relief. He was gone.

xxx

The next morning, Voldemort picked up the telephone. It was Mrs Mallory.

"Hello Mr Riddle," she said. "I just wanted to call again to thank you for looking after my darling little boy yesterday. Stewart told me about what a wonderful time he had, and he'd love to come again soon. Of course, if that's all right with you."

"Yes, yes of course," Voldemort rpelied. "Anyway, I must dash. Bye!"

"I'll call later and schedule a visit tomorrow then!" Mrs Mallory said as Voldemort slammed down the phone. The minute it was out of his hands he couldn't hold it in any more:

"NNNOOOOOOO!"

---

Nyah ha ha ha ha!

Yo dudes. I hope you enjoyed that, I know I did. (Evil smirk.) I'll update as soon as I can. You better review or I will come over to your house and eat your cheeldren.


	20. The Death Eaters at the Bath and West

Happy Tuesday everyone. Being stuck for ideas for the next Death Eater misadventure, I was given a rather spiffing idea from one of my fellow gnomes. The Death Eaters at the Bath and West. For those of you who don't know. (Puts on rubbish Somerset accent) the Bath and West is a west country tradition that has been taking place every year for the last two hundred and twenty nine years. It is a very popular event and includes many stalls, rides and events in the various arenas. Look it up on the internet, you might find something. It is just missing one thing. Death Eaters.

----

**The Death Eaters at the Bath and West**

"I've got a brand new combine 'arvester and I'll give you the key!" Rabastan sang loudly as the Death Eaters glared at him. They were stuck in a traffic jam, and Rabastan had been singing a wide variety of irritating songs since they left the house. He was now getting on everyone's nerves.

"I rode my bicycle past your window last night!" He sang. "Ooh ar, ooh ar, ooh ar-"

"RABASTAN!" Voldemort yelled, making him jump. "If you don't shut up right now I will propel you through that window! NOW BE QUIET!"

Rabastan sighed and resumed to staring out of the window.

Now I know that I may be stating the obvious here, but the Death Eaters are rather stupid. It was the third of June, the hottest day of the year so far, and still they had decided to leave the house dressed in their thick black robes.

"If this heat messes up my hair," Bellatrix said. "I'm going to scream."

"If this traffic jam goes on for any longer _I'm _going to scream," Dolohov said.

"Honestly," Bellatrix sighed. "I'm a wreck. My hair a mess, and one of my beatiful nails broken thanks to that tearaway of a six year old."

At this point, Barty gave a slight cough which was obviously suppressing a snigger.

"Something funny?" She snapped. "Ickle mummy's boy?"

"Oh you've gone and done it now," Dolohov said, burying his face in his hands as Barty whipped around and shot a curse at her.

"SIT DOWN CROUCH!" Voldemort said, swerving to the left as some cars beeped at him. "NOW!"

Barty sat down, fuming. Having nobody else to annoy, he proceeded to prod Wormtail in the back of his head with his wand.

"Stop it!" Wormtail squeaked.

"Nah."

"If you don't stop annoying each other," Voldemort said through gritted teeth. "You are going to be Crucioed so hard your HAIR will hurt."

"That won't be a problem for Wormtail then," Barty smirked. "He doesn't have any."

"SHUT UP!" Voldemort yelled. "Now, remember. We are a family. A nice happy family. And we will have happy conversations. Now. Lucius. Did you bring the tickets?"

"No!" Lucius cried.

"I brought them," Snape sighed in exhasperation.

"Good," Voldemort smiled. "Now. Calm everyone. We will be there in a minute. Just deep inhaling breaths, and relax. We will get there just as soon as THIS DAMN CAR STOPS TRYING TO OVERTAKE ME!"

He wound down the window and shot a hex at the car behind.

"Oh for heavens sake," Snape said, pulling him back into the car. "Just keep your eyes on the road."

The Death eaters arrived at the car park a few minutes later. They parked up, displayed their tickets, and went into the show.

It was full of muggles hurrying this way and that, dressed in a variety of odd clothes, however none as strange as theirs, and they recieved a number of odd looks by passers by.

Voldemort drew out his leaflet of the show and the Death Eaters gathered round it, resembling a group of rather lost tourists looking at a map.

"We are here," said Voldemort, pointing at a small dot on the map. "And all this other stuff is around here. So, where shall we go first?" Voldemort was bombarded with questions by his minions.

"Do they have owls?"

"Is there a make up stall?"

"Or a shoe stall?"

"Have they got turkish delight?"

"Where's the toilet?"

Everyone turned to look at Wormtail who had asked the last question. Voldemort pointed him in the direction of a small building and he shot off.

"Now," Voldemort said. "I think we should go on THAT."

He pointed to the other side of the showground where the top of a large mechanical device was clearly visible above the tops of the tents. They could hear the screaming of muggles on it from there.

"That," gulped Dolohov, fumbling with the brochure. "Is the, er, the Wheel of Death, my lord."

"Sounds perfect," Voldemort grinned. "Who wants a go?"

The Death Eaters all looked at each other nervously.

"It looks a bit high," Barty said.

"You're not scared are you?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, of course not," Barty replied, turning red.

"Then onwards and upwards!" Voldemort declared, and marched across the showground, his Death Eaters behind. They had not been out of sight for long when Wormtail hurried back. He looked around.

"Guys?"

"THE WHEEL OF DEATH!" The ride manager declared. "Guaranteed to make you scream, this heart pounding ride takes you 100 feet into the air. No risk whatsoever. we haven't had an accident for days."

"Are you sure about this?" Dolohov said, paling at the mans words.

"Positive!" Voldemort cried. "You heard him! completely risk free!" He walked up to the man. "Me and my friends would like a go sir." He said.

The man looked at him doubtfully.

"Are you sure?" He asked. "This ride is not reccomended for those with weak-"

"Do I look as though I have a weak heart?" Voldemort cut in.

"I was going to say weak stomachs," the man replied. "But if your certain. All aboard the Wheel of Death!"

Voldemort strode on happily, followed by the others. They sat in their seats and put their belts on.

"Are you ready?" The man asked. Voldemort nodded. The man pressed the button and they began to rise up into the air.

"This isn't so bad," Barty said with a faint smile as they rose slowly above the showground. "Quite a nice view actually."

"Aw," Bellatrix sneered. "Little mummy's boy enjoying the view?"

"Shut up," Barty glared.

"Leave him alone," Dolohov frowned, who was sitting next to Barty. "Just ignore her."

Barty pulled a face at the back of her head and leant back in his seat. Meanwhile, Rabastan was having some problems of his own.

"Look, it's all right," Rodolphus was saying. "It's a little high, yes, but- no, don't look over, we've already discussed this..."

Voldemort was grinning evilly in the front next to Snape and Lucius.

The ride suddenly stopped right at the top, and stood still.

"Have we broken down?" Barty asked. "We haven't have we? What if-"

"Oh for heaven's sake man!" Dolohov said, shaking his robes. "We'll be fine. I'm sure we'll go down nice and gently in a min-AAARRRGGGHHHH!"

The ride suddenly shot downwards, their seat was turning round and round until they were upside down and the ride kept spinning until all of the Death Eaters felt quite sick. They all screamed as their seat spun round faster and faster. Well, nearly all of them. Truth be told, Snape hadn't batted an eyelid and was still sitting there, his arms folded, glancing disdainfully at a spot on his fingernail.

The evil ride eventually came to a stop, and Death Eaters froze, in a state of shock. When they had finally caught their breath, Dolohov spoke.

"Barty?" He said. "Are you all right?"

Barty had turned a pale shade of green next to him, and didn't seem to want to speak.

"Oh my," Bellatrix smirked, turning round in her seat to face them. "Ickle mummy's boy feeling a bit sick is he?"

"Leave him alone Bellatrix," Dolohov warned.

"It's all right," she said, putting on a mock sympathetic tone. "The nasty ride's over now."

"I'm serious-" Dolohov said.

"We'll go on the merry-go-round next time." She gave him a fake smile. "It's a lot more-AARRGHH!"

She gave a high pitched scream as Dolohov brought up his wand from his pocket, at exactly the same time as Barty, although it wasn't his wand. It was his breakfast. All over Bellatrix's robes.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU CROUCH!" She scream when they had got off the ride, and Barty was feeling a bit better. "BRAND NEW ROBES THESE WERE!"

"Quite frankly," Dolohov said. "You deserved it."

Bellatrix gave a shriek of exhasperation and rounded on her husband, who was still trying to comfort Rabastan.

"This!" She screamed. "Is all your fault!"

"Why?" Rodolphus asked.

"Because- well, because- AAARRGH!" She gave another cry of despair and marched off.

Voldemort glanced after her in disapproval and then heard a voice on the loudspeaker.

"Could whoever owns 'Wormtail' please come to the lost animal's tent?" The voice said. "Quickly. He's scaring the staff."

"Wormtail!" Voldemort cried. "We completely forgot about him!"

They headed towards the lost animal tent and the attendant pushed Wormtail towards them gingerly.

"Take him," he said. "And please get him a lead next time."

Wormtail glared at the attendant and then walked off with the Death Eaters.

"So, what did I miss?" He asked, looking with a wrinkled nose at Bellatrix's nose.

"You don't want to know," Snape sighed.

----

Tee hee hee. I love being evil.


	21. The Death Eaters in Privet Drive

You all rock! Anyway. The Death Eaters have been the main characters for the entirety of this fic, unless you count Dumbledore's cameo in chapter 12. So I thought and thought. Who would be the best people to include in the next chapter? Who does everyone love making fun of? Then it came to me. So here you are. You either love them, or hate them, or love to hate them, the Dursleys!

-----

**The Death Eaters in Privet Drive.**

"Is everyone ready?" Voldemort asked. The Death Eaters nodded.

"Good."

Voldemort was a little worried about going to 'Patsy's Preserves' again. He was pretty sure that Barty hadn't replaced the Floo Powder with Other Dimension Powder again, but you could never be too sure. These thoughts left his head as he realised that Barty was with them, and trapping himself in another dimension was not the best of ideas.

"Patsy's Preserves!" Voldemort said confidently, and he disappeared.

"Ow!" Voldemort said, on landing. It was very dark in Patsy's Preserves, and very cramped.

Rabastan appeared beside him.

"Oof! Sorry my lord!"

"Rabastan, is that you?" Rodolphus's voice said. "Ow! Bellatrix! You trod on my foot!"

"Sorry, where's Lucius?"

"Here! Where's Snape?"

"Here! Ow! Barty!"

"Sorry, thought you were Wormtail."

"Oh this is ridiculous!" Voldemort said. "There's a wall here! Stand back everyone!"

"Oh, ha ha." Snape said sarcastically.

Voldemort blasted the wall over in a flash of red light, and the Death Eaters tumbled out of the fireplace, followed by a high pitched scream from inside the room.

"WHAT THE RUDDY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Came a booming, angry voice. Voldemort looked up to see a large purple faced man with a walrus like moustache. he looked furious, his eyes were popping out of their sockets and a vein was throbbing in his temple.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" Uncle Vernon bellowed. Aunt Petunia was shrieking in the background and Dudley was attempting to hide under the coffee table.

"I," Voldemort said, drawing himself up. "Am Lord Voldemort. And these are my minions, the Death Eaters."

Uncle Vernon eyed the Death Eaters suspiciously.

"We seem to have taken a wrong turn," Voldemort continued. "Can you tell me where to find Patsy's Preserves?"

"No I ruddy well can't," Uncle Vernon replied. "I don't know what filth that boy's got exploding through our fireplace this time, but it's going to stop!"

"Fine!" Voldemort said. "We're off! WORMTAIL! Where's he gone now?" Wormtail meanwhile had found his way into the kitchen, and was rummaging through the fridge looking for something to eat. Unfortunately for him, Aunt Petunia walked through the door at that minute and screamed as she saw him in her spotless kitchen. Wormtail jumped and spun around as Aunt Petunia grabbed a frying pan and, still screaming, began to beat him with it. Wormtail hurried into the other room.

"You better wait here," Uncle Vernon said. "I'm phoning the police."

The Death Eaters looked casually around the room. They had no idea what 'the police' were. Barty knelt down and looked at Dudley who was still cowering under the coffee table.

"Sweet?" He offered. Dudley's face turned pale as he looked at the purple sweet. He screamed and ran out of the room. Barty, a little confused, stood up.

Uncle Vernon returned into the room looking outraged. The police obviously had not believed his story about a group of wizards dressed in black exploding through his blocked up fireplace.

"PETUNIA!" He yelled, and smirked at the Death Eaters.

Aunt Petunia shot into the room and began whacking the Death Eaters with her frying pan.

"Minions!" Voldemort yelled. "Apparate back home! NOW!"

And with a series of simultaneous 'pops', they vanished into thin air, leaving a house full of very distressed Dursleys, who were sincerly hoping that the neighbours ahadn't seen any of this.

The Death Eaters were in shock. They collapsed in a heap in the living room back at home. When they had finally caught their breath, Dolohov spoke.

"There's one thing I don't understand," he said. "Why didn't the Floo Powder work?"

Meanwhile, several miles away, four teenage boys were in fits of hysterics.

"Blimey Harry," Ron Weasley said. "Those muggle web-cams are pure genius!"

"Fred and George were the ones who diverted the Floo Network!" Harry Potter sniggered. They were gathered around a computer that Mr Weasley had taken home for examining, and Harry had thought of some last minute fun to have with his relatives.

"Did you see Dudley's face?" Fred asked through laughter.

"And Aunt Petunia with the frying pan?" George added.

Harry sighed happily. What a way to spend an afternoon.

---

I hope that had you lot sniggering. The idea of Aunt Petunia and the frying pan was invented in an email with one of my 'friends'. I thought it was genius so couldn't let it go to waste now could I?

Rock on freaks. More randomness coming soon, in the form of the Death Eaters on a camping trip.

Reddy.


	22. The Death Eaters go on holiday

Hello odd people. In this chapter, the Death eaters go on a camping holiday, and, as predicted by a reviewer, Lucius and Bellatrix ARE going to have problems without electricity and plumbing.

I would like to thank Louise, who had the ingenious idea of the tents collapsing. Rock on dude.

----

**The Death Eaters go on Holiday**

"My Lord," Dolohov said over breakfast. "Not to criticise your ideas, but judging by the many failed attempts of family bonding already, why do you want us all to go on a camping holiday?"

The Death Eaters were eating their breakfast one Saturday morning. Hoping for a relatively normal weekend, but then Voldemort had announced that they were going camping somewhere in the countryside.

"Because," Lord Voldemort replied. "All happy families go on holiday. And that's what we are. A-"

"Happy Death Eater family," The others chorused glumly.

"That's the spirit!"

Half an hour later, and the Death Eaters were piling into the mini van, with the usual problems.

"Lucius honestly," Voldemort was saying. "You do not need that many shoes."

"Shoes are essential," Lucius Malfoy insisted, piling what looked like half of his wardrobe into the boot. "Accessories are everything."

"He's right you know," Bellatrix said. She had two bags full of what looked like make up and clothes. She stuffed them into the boot of the mini van.

Voldemort sighed. Getting the Death Eaters ready to go on small trips took forever. To get ready to go on a two day holiday would take even longer.

"Has anyone seen Dolohov?" He asked. The Death Eaters who were there shook their heads. Voldemort felt like pulling out his hair with frustration, if he had any hair, which he didn't, so instead he kicked the tyre of the mini van, which left him only with a bruised foot and an even worse temper. He spun around to see Barty sneaking across the lawn.

"What are you doing?" He snapped.

"Nothing!"

"A likely story!" Voldemort snarled. "Come here!"

Barty walked over sheepishly. Voldemort paced around hi slowly, looking at him suspiciously.

"Empty your pockets," he ordered. Barty did. "What is this?" He picked up a strange stick like thing with a blue light on the end.

"My Sonic-" Barty began, and broke off.

"Your Sonic what?"

"Screwdriver," he mumbled.

"Your Sonic Screwdriver?" Voldemort said, his eyebrows raised. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that blue thing that appeared on the lawn would it?"

But before Barty could reply, Dolohov appeared from the house, and Voldemort's attention was diverted. Breathing a sigh of relief, Barty pocketed the Sonic Screwdriver and climbed into the mini van.

"Where have you been?" Voldemort asked, turning on Dolohov who, although it was nearly July, had snow in his hair.

"Nowhere," Dolohov replied, brushing it out. "Er, Rodolphus was in the kitchen, I think he broke your best tea set."

"WHAT!"

It was a long laborious process, but eventually all of the Death Eaters were piled into the mini van, all of their stuff was in the boot and they were finally trundling along the road.

"We're all going on a, summer holiday," Rabastan sang. "No more worries for a week or two."

"Rabastan," Voldemort said. "Is there some sort of law that you always have to sing when we go somewhere?"

"Er, no," Rabastan replied.

"Good. Then shut up."

Snape was in the passenger seat looking at the muggle maps.

"You have to take a left here," he said. "And then a right here, and then straight on and take a second left..."

"I think I can handle it," Voldemort said, beginning to lose his temper after two hours.

"Good," Snape replied. "Because we should be here, right about now."

They turned up a small track and into a field full of tents. Voldemort parked the mini van next to some tents with a sign next to them saying: 'Mr Riddle.'

They got out of the mini van and started unloading their things.

"Everyone pick a tent and two tent buddies," Voldemort said. "Wormtail, Snape, you can come with me."

Rabastan, Rodolphus and Bellatrix had the tent next to them, and Dolohov, Barty and Lucius had the other tent.

As soon as they had finished unpacking, they had a look around.

"This is what pioneering is all about!" Voldemort said, looking around at the campsite. "Away from it all, no Harry Potter, no Dumbledore, no irritating neighbours."

"Tom!" Came a voice from behind them, they spun around, and Voldemort felt as though he was going to be sick.

Mrs Mallory and her son Stewart were standing outside the tent next to them.

"Oh hell no," Voldemort moaned.

"What was that?" Mrs Mallory asked.

"I said, oh hello! How nice to see you here!"

"Stewart's never been camping before, have you darling?" Mrs Mallory said to the little six year old. "I thought it might be a nice experience for him. Character building you know."

"Yes, well, of course-"

"You know Tom," Mrs Mallory said. "He had such a nice time at your house, perhaps you could look after him this evening. There's a bingo game at the local pub and I thought I would have an evening to myself."

"Er, actually," Voldemort said. "We were planning on going to that as well…" he had no idea what bingo was, but it couldn't be worse than looking after Stewart Mallory again.

"Oh," Mrs Mallory said. "Well I suppose I could just bring him with me."

"No!" the Death Eaters cried.

"Er, well," Voldemort stammered. "What we mean is, there's a crèche somewhere on the campsite, I'm sure you could leave him there. He'd make some new friends."

"You're absolutely right," Mrs Mallory smiled. "I think I'll go and ask about it now."

And she walked off, holding Stewart's hand. However she didn't see her son turn around as they walked away and give the Death Eaters a very evil grin. They shuddered, and, as soon as Mrs Mallory and her demon son were out of site, they began to talk.

"I cannot believe it," Voldemort said. "I thought we were rid of him."

"I am NOT breaking any more nails," Bellatrix added.

"And I am not having him wrecking all of my shoes again," Lucius said.

"Look," Voldemort said. "We are going to get through this weekend. We are not going to let a six year old boy ruin our holiday. Now we are going to go out this evening and do this 'bingo' thing that Mrs Mallory was talking about."

The Death Eaters nodded uncertainly. They had a bad feeling about this.

That evening, the Death Eaters gathered at the front of the tents.

"Stewart safely in the crèche?" Voldemort asked Mrs Mallory.

"Yes," she replied. "He's making friends already."

(Meanwhile, at the crèche…)

The other children were cowering in the corner of the playroom. The attendant had stepped out to get a cup of coffee and Stewart was being Stewart.

"You," he said to one little boy with ginger hair and freckle. "Give me your crayons."

The trembling little boy handed Stewart the wax crayons. Stewart threw them on the floor and stamped on them determinedly.

The little boy began to cry.

"Oh shut up," Stewart glared. "Now I'm going to get out of here. If the attendant comes back, tell him my mother came to pick me up. Got it?"

The children nodded.

"And if anyone tells him that I've run away, you'll have more than crayons to cry about."

They nodded again, and Stewart walked out.

(While all this was going on…)

"BINGO!" Lucius cried for the fifth time. He was surrounded by the numerous fluffy toys he had won, and Voldemort was getting rather fed up.

"Oh for heavens sake," he said. "Isn't it time to go home yet?"

"Not until I've won that big blue bear," Lucius replied, gazing at the large stuffed animal on the top table.

"Oh forget the bear," Voldemort said impatiently. "Let's go. I'm exhausted."

"You're just jealous that I've got more numbers than you." Lucius smirked. Voldemort shot him a murderous glare. "Fine," Lucius sighed. "We'll go."

They arrived back at the campsite ten minutes later, got into their pyjamas and climbed into their sleeping bags.

"I don't like the dark," Rabastan whispered to his brother.

"It's just dark, Rabastan," Rodolphus replied sleepily. "Go to sleep."

"But what if the monsters get me?" Rabastan asked.

"The only monster you have to worry about is me without my beauty sleep," Bellatrix hissed. "Now go to sleep or else."

Rabastan lay down, and froze as he saw a shadow pass by their tent.

"What was that?" he asked, grabbing his pillow.

"Just an owl," Rodolphus replied.

A few more minutes past, Rabastan was sure that he could hear something scrabbling around near the tent outside, but he didn't want Bellatrix to yell at him, so passed it off as a mouse.

However he realised just how wrong he was as, just as he was dropping off to sleep, the tent roof collapsed, falling on his head.

"AAARRRGGHHH!" He screamed.

"AAARRRGGHHH!" Rodolphus yelled.

"AAARRRGGHHH!" Bellatrix shrieked.

"What's going on?" Rabastan heard Rodolphus ask from somewhere under the canvas.

"This is all YOUR fault!" He heard Bellatrix say.

(Meanwhile, in the tent next to them…)

"Let's tell spooky stories," Barty said, sitting up with his torch.

"Er, I don't know," Lucius said uncertainly.

"Scared of spooky stories are you?" Barty smirked.

"No," Lucius replied quickly. "I'm fine. Hang on; I'll just get Mr Teddy."

"Whatever," Dolohov said. "I'll start." He cleared his throat and began. "It was a warm summers night at the campsite," he said. "All was quiet, and the camper called...Lucius, was fast asleep. To start with..." he glanced at Lucius who was staring at him wide eyed. "As Lucius's watch struck midnight, a shadow passed over the tent. He woke up.

There was a crash from somewhere outside his tent, he unzipped the front and looked out. Nobody was there. Suddenly, he heard heavy breathing behind him, and footsteps getting closer and closer. He turned around and-"

"AAARRGGGHHH!"

The three of them screamed as the tent collapsed onto their heads.

Two tents away, Lord Voldemort woke with a start. He had felt certain he had heard someone scuffling around near the tent pegs. Passing it off as an animal, he lay back down.

There was another, louder scuffling noise near his corner of the tent and somebody sneezed.

Voldemort sat up so quickly that time he woke the other two.

"My Lord, what time is it?" Snape said drowsily.

"Shh!"

"What?" Wormtail asked, rubbing his eyes.

"I heard something," Voldemort whispered.

They listened.

"I can't hear anything," Snape said irritably. "Go to sleep."

Voldemort lay down uncertainly, and, just as he was about to drop off, the tent collapsed and fell on his head.

"WORMTAIL!" He yelled.

"I didn't do it my lord!"

When the Death Eaters had finally all scrambled out of their tents, the cogs began turning in their tiny little Death Eater brains, and they finally realised who had caused this.

"Stewart Mallory!" They all said at once.

"Someone say my name?" Said a voice. They turned around and saw Stewart Mallory, standing there, flanked by the children from the creche who he had obviously employed as an army.

"RUN!" Voldemort yelled, and, without being told twice, the Death Eaters hurried into the mini van and drove off as fast as they could.

"Never again." Rodolphus said. "And I mean it! That is the last time we do family bonding!"

That's what he thought.

-----

The return of Stewart Mallory. Had to happen. Can't leave the Death Eaters untormented now can we?


	23. The Death Eaters have some visitors

(Cackles.) This one's for my Great Aunts Gill and Suzie, the real life Constance and Florence.

And I would just like to mention that one of the lines in this is taken from _Kim Possible_, but I thought it was such a cool line. Doctor Drakken says it in the Mothers Day episode.

In addition to that, for those of you who occasionally watch _Dennis the Menace_, (The English version, not the American one), this chapter is inspired by the episode when Dennis's Great Aunts Fanny and Gertrude come to visit. I love that one. (Sniggers.)

You can tell I watch far too much TV.

And after those disclaimers, onwards and upwards!

----

**The Death Eaters have visitors**

"I don't believe this," Voldemort said, reading a letter that he had just got in the post. "I just don't believe it. This is terrible!"

"What's terrible, my Lord?" Wormtail asked.

"MY LIFE IS OVER!"

"Life is nothing but a black hole of misery leading us unknowingly into a mysterious world of inevitable death." Snape remarked. The others stared at him.

Voldemort sighed and banged his head on the table.

"My two Great Aunts, Aunt Florence and Aunt Constance, are visiting." He said mournfully.

"What's so bad about that?" Dolohov asked.

"You haven't met my Great Aunts," The dark lord moaned. "They are the most irritating people ever to walk the planet."

"Surely they're not that bad," Rodolphus said nervously. "Just a couple of little old ladies, right?"

"I say again," Voldemort said. "You have never met my Great Aunts. Whenever you go to see them, they just sit there, glaring at you for the entirety of your visit." He stared into space, and shuddered.

"So," Bellatrix said after a pause. "When are these Great Aunts from hell coming then?"

"It said in the letter, today," Voldemort turned paler than usual. "And they're staying for three days."

"Great."

The doorbell suddenly rang. Voldemort jumped and dived under the table.

"Oh no, it's them! Hide!"

They all hid under the dining table.

"Right," Voldemort said. "There is no way any of us must answer the door. We're all here, aren't we?"

The Death Eaters looked around.

"Yeah," Dolohov said. "No, wait, hang on, where's-"

"Barty!" Voldemort finished as he saw Barty walk down the stairs and head towards the door. "No!"

But Barty could not hear his master's frantic whispers, and instead opened the front door, and took a surprised step back.

Standing in the doorway were two women. They were wearing large hats with fruit on, and had matching stony glares on their faces.

They glanced Barty up and down, and then one spoke.

"I am Aunt Constance," said the one with grey hair tied back into a bun. "And this is Aunt Florence." She gestured to the one with red curly hair. "We have come to see little Tommy."

Barty stopped a smirk from creeping over his face.

"He's just in here," he said. "Please come in."

They walked into the house, and spotted Voldemort along with the rest of the Death Eaters hiding under the table.

"Tom, what are you doing under there?" Aunt Constance asked, bending down to look at her great nephew.

"Nothing, Aunty," Voldemort replied, scrambling to his feet.

"Are these your little friends we've heard so much about?" Aunt Florence said.

"Yes, Aunty," Voldemort said. "These are my friends."

They glanced disdainfully at the Death Eaters.

"Tom, you will now show us to our room," Aunt Constance said.

"Yes, certainly," Voldemort replied, and led his Great Aunts upstairs.

That evening, they were all gathered around the table, eating, Well, nearly everyone, Barty had muttered something about getting more pickles and had slipped out just before seven.

Great Aunt Constance and Florence had not actually touched their food yet, but were glancing around the table with very disdainful looks on their faces.

"Tom," Snapped Aunt Constance. "What have we told you about playing with your food?"

"My food is not a toy," Voldemort replied wearily. "It's for my tummy to enjoy."

The Death Eaters sniggered.

"And you," Aunt Florence said, shooting a glare at Rabastan. "No elbows on the table."

"Honestly," Aunt Constance sighed. "You don't know any manners at all, do you?"

"I think Tom's a bad influence on them," Florence added.

Voldemort was just about to speak, when they heard the front door fling wide open, and Barty came flying into the room like a whirlwind, and it seemed, to everyone's utter astonishment, that he was crying!

"Barty, are you all right?" Voldemort asked.

"Out of pickles?" Rabastan suggested.

Barty shot him such a dark look that Rabastan shut up at once.

But Dolohov was under the distinct impression that Barty had not been pickle shopping at all.

"You've been gone for nearly an hour," he said. "Where have you been?"

"Nowhere!" Barty shouted. "Everyone just leave me alone! My life is OVER!" And he ran out of the room and thundered up the stairs.

"If this has anything to do with that thing on the lawn," Voldemort said. "_Or _that muggle girl, there'll be hell to pay."

"Er, can I get down?" Dolohov asked.

Voldemort nodded and Dolohov left his plate and ran upstairs.

"Barty?" He asked, poking his head around Barty's bedroom door. Barty was lying face down on his bed, sobbing into his pillow.

"What happened?" Dolohov asked, sitting on the side of the bed.

"Nothing," Barty replied.

"I know you well enough to know that it isn't nothing," Dolohov smiled. "You can tell me, what is _really _the matter?"

"Oh my life is over!" Barty cried.

"Life is nothing but a black hole of misery leading us unknowingly into a mysterious world of inevitable death." Snape said, poking his head around the door.

"Go away," Dolohov glared, throwing a pillow at the door. Snape disappeared. He turned back to Barty. "Why's your life over then?"

"It's Rose," Barty replied. "The muggle girl."

"What about her?" Dolohov asked.

"She's GONE!" He cried, bursting into tears.

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone," Barty snapped.

"OK," Dolohov said slowly. "And, dare I ask, how exactly did it come about that she came to be in this state of... goneness?"

"She nearly got sucked into the void but then Pete took her into the parallel world, then I closed the gap so there wouldn't be any more dirty great holes ripped in the universe and now she's stuck with Mickey the idiot and I can't get back!"

"Well, er, that certainly explains a lot," Dolohov said. "You said you closed the gap or whatever? Can't you just open it again?"

"Don't point out the plot holes," Barty snapped.

"Fine, fine," Dolohov sighed. "Look, Voldemort's Great Aunts are tormenting everyone downstairs. Do you think you'll be OK?" Barty sniffed and nodded. "Come on then."

When they got downstairs, they both recieved extremely disdainful looks from Great Aunt Constance and Florence.

"It is very bad manners," Great Aunt Florence began. "To arrive at dinner late."

Barty shot them a murderous glare and sat down in between Dolohov and Rodolphus.

"Tom," Constance said suddenly. Voldemort shot her a look from his chair.

"It has come to my attention," she continued. "That you have only provided us with one fork, one spoon and one knife. Please explain yourself."

There was silence.

"You won't be needing the spoon," Lucius said cheerfully. "My sponge pudding went a little wrong..." He trailed off at the tight lipped expression he was getting from Great Aunt Constance.

"You must have more than one knife, fork and spoon," she said. "Did your mother teach you nothing, Tom?"

Voldemort suddenly looked very tense.

"No," he said irritably. "I can't say that she did."

"Oh of course not," Great Aunt Florence said quickly. "Constance," she whispered. "His mother is D-E-A-"

"I can spell you know!" Voldemort said sulkily.

"Honestly," Constance sighed. "We were brought up perfectly well. I was under the impression that Marvolo would have brought up his children very well, so your mother would have passed the ettiquette genes onto you."

"Er, Aunties," Voldemort said. "I'm awfully sorry to tell you this, but Marvolo did not turn out as well mannered as you two, and my mother and uncle didn't exactly either."

"Ridiculous," Florence said. "The Gaunts have always been polite and well mannered. Especially Morfin, he was the most well mannered of the lot."

Rodolphus suddenly broke into a very loud coughing fit.

"If you are to die, do it quietly and without any fuss," Constance said shortly to him. "Yes, Morfin was quite the little gentleman."

This comment started Rodolphus off coughing again.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Florence said. "What is wrong with you man?"

"I'm sorry," Rodolphus said, wiping tears of laughter away. "But, er, Morfin wasn't exactly the polite type."

"On the contrary," Great Aunt Constance sniffed. "He was always well mannered."

"Yeah," Dolohov sniggered. "If you count attatching various reptiles to his front door, then-"

"That was just an eccentric hobby," Florence said firmly, glancing at Dolohov as if he was a piece of dirt. "I always thought it added so much to the decour."

They couldn't help themselves, all the Death Eaters burst out laughing. Except for Voldemort, who looked very embarrassed, and, of course, his Great Aunts, who stood up simultaneously.

"If there is to be no pudding," Constance said stiffly. "Then we shall retire to our room."

And they left.

"This is going to be a nightmare," Voldemort said, burying his face in his hands.

The Death Eaters awoke the next morning to find the Great Aunts already awake and fully clothed in the kitchen.

Barty was the first to get up, and he went downstairs drowsily in his pyjamas, hoping to get some tea.

"OH!"

"AAARRGGHHH!"

"AARRGGHH!" Barty yelled, leaping out of his skin. He opened his eyes wide and saw Great Aunts Constance and Florence sitting at the breakfast table, fully clothed, and with expressions of horror on their faces.

"What?" Barty asked. "What happned?"

"My dear boy," Great Aunt Constance said, drawing out a fan and shielding her eyes. "A man must NEVER show himself in his nightwear to a lady."

"What?" Barty repeated, the poor guy very confused.

"It is simply not done!" Florence added. "Now go back upstairs and don't come down until you are fully clothed.

"And have brushed your hair," Constance said firmly.

"And your teeth."

"But I haven't even had breakfast yet-"

"Teeth! Now!"

Barty, grumbling, went upstairs, warning the other Death Eaters that he saw on the way to get dressed before going down or face a lecture from the Great Aunts.

When they were all finally dressed, downstairs and having their breakfast, Great Aunt Florence noticed something.

"Where is Tom?" She asked.

"Upstairs," Lucius replied. "He always has an hour longer in bed than the rest of us."

The two Great Aunts looked at each other with tight lipped expressions, and, without a single word, stood up and marched upstairs.

Voldemort was enjoying a nice lie in. He had heard the others get up and go downstairs, and it pleased him to think that he would be enjoying some nice toast and jam readily prepared by one of his minions who had gotten up a whole hour earlier than him.

He hugged his teddy bear and sighed happily, listening to the birds sing outside with their lovely tune gently rousing him for the new day...

"TOM! WAKE UP!"

Voldemort sat up sharply and gave a squeak of fright. Constance and Florence were standing over his bed, fixing him with identical glares.

"What are you doing here?" He squeaked, gathering up his duvet to hide his pink bunny pyjamas.

"We are here to get you out of bed," Great Aunt Florence replied. "You staying in bed an extra hour whilst your friends are up, not to mention your guests? It is unheard of!"

"Well-"

"Up! Now!"

Voldemort leapt out of bed. They looked in disdain at his pyjamas and then returned their stony gazes to their great nephew.

"We will be downstairs awaiting you for breakfast to begin," Great Aunt Constance said. "And you better be dressed and have your teeth brushed."

"But I haven't eaten-" He stopped at the dangerous looked he was recieving from them, and shut up. They walked out of the room without a word.

Voldemort came downstairs for breakfast a few minutes later, in his usual black robes, teeth nicely brushed. Great Aunt Constance and Florence seemed to have been doing a good job of keeping everyone off the food before he arrived. He sat down at the table, and they began to eat.

"So," Great Aunt Constance said when they had all finished. "Tom, what do you plan to do with us today?"

"Excuse me?" Voldemort asked.

"Well surely you have an exciting line up for your Great Aunties," Florence added. "Walking around a stately home? Going to an art museum?"

"I didn't have anything planned, actually," Voldemort admitted.

"Oh," The Great Aunts sipped their tea, a tense air about them.

"But, I'm sure we could arrange something," he said quickly. "Where were you thinking?"

"Anywhere sophisticated," Constance replied. "I've always wanted to go to London in the 1900's, but of course, time travel is impossible."

At these words, Barty became very busy with buttering another piece of toast.

"Never mind," Great Aunt Constance sighed. "I suppose we could stay here. Now, if everyone's finished, you must go and brush your teeth."

"_Again_?" Dolohov groaned. Great Aunt Constance shot him a steely glare.

"Yes," she said. "Dental hygiene is very important. Unfortunately, I forgot my toothbrush, so I had to borrow one of the ones in the bathroom." The Death Eaters all tensed up. "The one with the letter _'B' _on it," she continued.

"Ha!" Barty laughed, pointing at Bellatrix. "Loser!"

"The blue one," Great Aunt Constance finished, and Barty's smile dropped immediately.

"Oh, that's foul!" he cried, and raced out of the room.

The others looked at her in disgust.

"A lady must always have pristeen teeth," she said.

"But Aunty," Voldemort cried in exhasperation. "Your teeth aren't even real!"

"I know that, Tom," she sniffed. "I put them in a mug of water for the night, the black one with bats on."

Snape put down his mug at once and glanced at it as though it was something he had found on the end of his shoe.

"Well chop chop!" Great Aunt Florence cried. "Come on, brush your teeth all of you!"

There was a scraping of chairs as the Death Eaters got up and left the room.

"They're nightmares!"

"They're terible!"

"They're so bossy!"

"And scary."

"They used my toothbrush!"

"I don't think I'm ever going to use that mug again."

"Shut up!" Voldemort cried. "All of you! Shut up! Now, I know that my Great Aunties are a little... difficult, maybe, but they _are _related to me."

"We have to get rid of them!" Rodolphus said finally.

"But how on earth are we going to do that?" Dolohov asked. "They are not human. They're like the relatives from hell..."

"You're right," Voldemort sighed. "Three days of them and I'll be pulling out my hair." He shot a warning glance at Rabastan who looked as though he was about to speak.

"How though, my lord?" Dolohov asked.

"I have a brilliant idea," Voldemort smirked. "Barty, we're going to need your practical joke supplies..."

The clock ticked, sounding very loud in the silence in the living room. Rabastan and Rodophus had been assigned to keeping the Great Aunts busy whilst the others prepared for _Operation Extermination_, (Barty came up with the name.)

"So..." Rodolphus said slowly after what seemed like an eternity of silence, in which he and Rodolphus had been sitting uncomfortably in two armchairs, trying to look anywhere but at Great Aunt Constance and Florence who were sitting opposite them on the other sofa, staring at them with an unblinking stony gaze. "Lovely weather." Rodolphus finished.

They continued staring at them.

"The others will be along in a minute," he added.

At that moment, Rabastan nudged his brother and nodded at the floor beside the door where a small, scruffy and very familiar looking rat had just scurried in.

It hurried over to the Great Aunt's feet and attracted their attention by nibbling at Great Aunt Florence's high heels.

There were two high pitched screams from the Great Aunts, as, all graces forgotten, leapt off the sofa and did a peculiar dance trying to step on the rat.

"Poor guy," Rodolphus said to Rabastan, watching the rat scurry about trying to dodge the feet.

"Brave, though," Rabastan commented.

"Nah," Rodolphus replied. "Barty said if he didn't do it then he'd stuff him in one of Voldemort's jam jars."

"Oh."

"AAARRGGGHH!" The Great Aunts shrieked and ran out of the room, unfortunately causing a bucket that had been precariously balanced on top of the door frame to fall down and soak them with some questionable slimy green substance.

This caused them to shriek all the louder, and they raced towards the front door, only to trigger a trip wire and to have several water balloons land on their heads.

Soaking, slimy and terrified, the two Great Aunts flung open the door, Great Aunt Constance drew out her wand and just managed a shaky: _'Accio suitcases'_ and catch she and Florence's bags as they zoomed down the stairs towards her, before shooting out of the door. It was then that they were confronted by Barty's owls, who swooped after them, chasing them down the garden path and out of the gate where they disapperated into thin air.

Voldemort gave a sigh of relief while his minions cheered loudly. His Great Aunts were gone at last.

"Well done minions," he said when the commotion had died down. "And if I see any of you having _any _table manners of _any _kind _ever _again, you will be very sorry."

"Post!" Came a voice.

"Ah, thank you, Postie," Voldemort said, picking his way across the slime and water ridden floor to take the letters from the rather bewildered looking postman.

The postman tipped his hat to Voldemort, and, with one last befuddled look around the now rather messy hallway, walked off down the garden path.

Voldemort was now in a considerably happy mood, and, as he opened a letter addressed to him, he knew that nothing could dampen his spirits at all.

But as he read the letter, his smile slowly faded, and he began to see just how very wrong he was.

_Dear Tommy boy,_

_How's it going old chap? Fantastic for me, got myself a new tweed suit the other day, a little mugglish maybe, but they certainly know how to dress! Anyway, bit of bad news, I'm afraid. Played one of the lads in a game of poker the other day, and, erm, I lost my entire estate in ten minutes. So I was wondering if you'd be a sport and let me bunk at your place for a few weeks? Smashing. _

_From your favourite second cousin, Albert._

Voldemort folded up the letter and put it back in the envelope, his tight lipped expression reminding the others very much of the Great Aunts.

"What is it?" Dolohov asked.

"My muggle loving, rich, eccentric second cousin Albert," Voldemort replied. "Is coming to stay."

There was silence. Then suddenly, Voldemort could not hold it in any more:

"NNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

----

(Cackles.)

Oh how I love to make fun of relatives.


	24. The Death Eaters go swimsuit shopping

Hello poor misguided cheeldren. Back for more randomness I see? Well it doesn't get much stupider than this.

When I get stuck for a Death Eater title to inspire me, I often ask my friends for an idea. It was then that the genius commonly known as Bex came up with such an evil, such an ingenious title that it had me shaking where I sat... with laughter. This one's for Bex! She gave me the title, and this is what I made from it...

----

**The Death Eaters go swimsuit shopping**

It was a boiling hot July day at the Death Eater's house, and for once, nothing in particular was going on, for the simple reason that everyone was too tired to do anything.

Voldemort was lying fully clothed in the empty bath. Bellatrix was sprawled on her bed with her windows wide open, so motionless that if she hadn't been breathing, you could have thought she was dead.

Rodolphus was hanging out out of the attic window, Barty was sitting in the shade of the laburnum tree, trying to catch the water from next door's sprinkler. Lucius had his head in the sink, Wormtail was trying to fit into the freezer and Rabastan had taken refuge in the garden pond, only his head was visible as he sat among the water lilies. The only Death Eater who probably wasn't hot was Dolohov, who had disappeared into his wardrobe and hadn't been seen for several hours.

Voldemort, unknown to everyone else, was not lying fully clothed in an empty bath simply because it was a way to cool down. It was his favourite place to plot, and right now, he was plotting for an effective way for he and his minions to cool off.

As many of you may have already deduced, the Death Eaters are not the brightest members of the human race, and so as Lord Voldemort lay there in the bath tub, it took him several minutes before he came up with a suitable plan.

"HA!" He shouted, leaping out of the bath. "MINIONS!"

The Death Eater's heard their master's shout, even Lucius who had his head under the water in the sink. Not, however, Dolohov, who was in, well, we all know where he was.

"What is it my lord?" Snape asked.

"We are going swimming!" Voldemort replied.

"Swimming?" Bellatrix asked. "But the chlorine will ruin my hair."

"Yeah!" Lucius agreed.

"You can wear swim caps," Voldemort said dismissively.

"But I can't swim," Wormtail squeaked.

"Then you better learn," Voldemort replied.

"We haven't got any swimming costumes," Rodolphus pointed out.

"Then we'll have to," Voldemort gulped. "Go and get some from a muggle shop."

There was a small gasp from around the room.

"What's wrong with that?" Voldemort snapped. "All of you in the mini van now!"

The Death Eaters arrived at the sport's shop a few minutes later. They all traipsed in in their black robes, much to the shock of the shopkeeper.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"We are looking for some wimming costumes," Voldemort declared.

the shopkeeper pointed over at a wire rack on which hung a large variety of swimsuits. The Death Eaters gathered round it and there was pandemonium.

"I need something with floats in it," Wormtail said, looking through the children's section.

"Rabastan, I'm serious," Rodolphus was saying to his brother who was holding up a pair of lime green swimming trunks. "You wear those and I'll disown you."

"Snape, what are you having?" Lucius asked. He recieved a knife like look from Snape.

"I'm not swimming," he replied shortly.

"Oh, OK," Lucius said cheerily. "How about this?" He held up a pink frilly swimming costume.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Snape sighed. "Muggle _women _wear them, Lucius, not the men, they wear _these_." He held up a pair of swimming trunks.

"Well I'm not putting them on," Lucius said sulkily. "I like a healthy-"

"Yes, we know the line," Snape said quickly.

"Ha!" Voldemort was saying, holding up a pair of speedos. The others froze.

"My lord," Barty said. "You're not wearing, _those _are you?"

"Whyever not?"

"Well," Bellatrix said, looking a little green. "Er, never mind..."

"Are we all finished?" Voldemort asked.

"Just about," Rodolphus replied, who was trying to tug the lime green swimming trunks out of his brother's grasp. With one firm tug from Rabastan, Rodolphus gave up with an exhasperated sigh.

They marched up to the counter and paid, the shopkeeper looking a little frightened, and then left.

"No," Voldemort said. "Onwards to the pool!"

When they arrived at the pool, the Death Eaters were rather irritated to discover that half of the population of the muggle town had beaten them to it. The pool was filled with children and their parents. Children swimming, children floating about on inflatable ducky rings, children screaming and shouting and generally making pests of themselves. Snape sat down in a chair beside the pool and began to read, _'100 ways to make students lives miserable' _.

"Oh how I hate children," Voldemort glared. And the other Death Eaters had to agree.

They walked over to the poolside and got into the water. The pool fell silent as they got in. Some mothers ushered their children out of the pool.

"You _had _to wear the frilly one," Voldemort said to Lucius, who was wearing the pink frilly swimming costume.

"Yes," Lucius sniffed.

The pool slowly went back to normal, although it was noticed that everyone left quite a space between them and the Death Eaters.

Not that the Death Eaters minded this, they enjoyed being feared. So it was a bit of a surprise and a shock to them when one small boy waded right up to them and gave them an evil grin, causing the Death Eaters to shudder.

Normally, they would not be afraid of a small dark haired, six year old boy. But it just so happened that this boy was all too familiar to them, and the moment they caught sight of him, they wished that they had stayed at home instead of ever coming.

"Stewart Mallory," Voldemort glared. "What a... nice surprise to meet you here."

Stewart just kept on grinning in that calculating way of his that made Voldemort feel most uncomfortable, and relieved when Stewart averted his gaze and instead gave Lucius's costume a once over with his eyes, and, with the same expression of disdain, taking in Rabastan's lime green swimming trunks.

"Tom!" Came a cry from the other end of the pool. Voldemort flinched. Stewart Mallory was evil, but his mother was just plain irritating.

"Oh, hello Mrs Mallory!" Voldemort said, putting on his fakest grin. "What a pleasure it is to see you here."

"Oh you know what," she said. "You have no idea how strange it is to see you here. Little Stewart was just begging to come here today, he was going on about how he couldn't wait to see Mr Riddle and his friends. I have no idea how he knew you would be here."

"Me neither," Voldemort replied, glancing warily at Stewart. "Well anyway, we were going to go into the deep end. You don't want your little boy up there, do you?"

"On the contrary," Mrs Mallory said. "I believe in character building. I can't come up there, I was going to catch some sun, could you be a dear and look after him?"

"Well actually-"

"Excellent," the muggle cut in. "Take care darling! Remember to wear your armbands!"

And she got out of the pool and took a seat next to Snape after giving him a cheery wave. He grimaced in reply and she sat down, put on a pair of sunglasses and lay back for a sleep.

The Death Eaters, who had been watching this, and feeling sorry for Snape, hadn't realised that Stewart had disappeared.

"Where's he gone?" Voldemort said with a jump as he realised that the boy was no longer there.

They drew closer together, looking around for any sign of Stewart.

"Where is he?" Rabastan asked. "WHERE IS HE!"

"Control yourself man!" Rodolphus said. "He's somewhere, you can count on that. And up to no good, I'll be bound."

At that moment, Lucius gave a shriek, the Death Eaters looked to where he was pointing and they saw Stewart at the bottom of the ladder to the highest diving bored, and giving them an evil grin.

"No!" Voldemort cried. "His mother will kill me if anything happens to him! One of us has to go after him!"

All of the Death Eaters looked at each other.

"I nominate Barty!" Wormtail squeaked. He flinched at the murderous glare that he recieved from his nominee. "Well I can barely reach the first wrung." Wormtail pointed out.

"That's decided then," Voldemort said. "Crouch. Retrieve that child."

With one last glare at Wormtail, Barty climbed out of the pool and hurried over to the small boy.

"Well look who it is," Stewart smirked. "It's the amateur practical joker."

"Come HERE!" Barty said, ignoring this last comment, and with that, he leapt at the cackling little boy, but was not quick enough as Stewart shot up the ladder and by the time Barty had picked himself off the ground, Stewart was at the top.

Furious, Barty scrambled up, and froze as he saw Stewart, about to jump off the diving board into the pool far below.

"Aaw," Stewart said. "Not scared of heights, are we?"

"No," Barty said quickly.

"Need to ask permission of your mummy to come up this high, do you?" Stewart smirked, not expecting the horrible reaction that would come from this comment as Barty fixed him with a very dangerous glare.

"DON'T," He cried. "TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER!"

He ran towards Stewart, perhaps a tad unwisely, as Stewart did a neat side step and Barty went careering off the end of the diving board.

"AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!"

The Death Eaters, meanwhile, were watching their comrade plummet towards the pool. He hit the water with a huge splash, soaking nearly everyone, except for Stewart's mother, who was now sound asleep.

Snape shot Barty a nasty look, and dabbed at the pages of his now soaking book with the corner of his robes.

Barty waded towards them, every inch of him soaking wet.

"Never again," he said after a moments pause of the others looking at him and trying with all of their might not to laugh. "I am never, chasing that brat again."

At that moment, Rabastan gave a yelp. Stewart had snuck underwater whilst they weren't watching and had bitten Rabastan on his big toe.

Whilst Rodolphus set about trying to calm down his brother, the others went under the water to try and get the six year old pirahna.

Voldemort saw Stewart dart behind the legs of a group of muggles and disappear from view. They resurfaced.

"I had no idea," said Voldemort. "That six year olds could swim underwater."

"That is no normal six year old," Barty said.

"It's clearly not safe in the water," Voldemort said. "What shall we do?"

Suddenly, a loud whistle blew, and a lifeguard pulled out a large aray of floating objects, including three huge floating mats. Voldemort suddenly had a diabollical idea...

"Lucius! No, wait, I'll get off, you get on, ARGH!"

SPLASH!

Lucius fell off the mat and landed in the water again, showering his master in water. The other Death Eaters watched them wearily from their mats.

"I Christan you," Rodolphus said, from the mat holding himself, Rabastan and Bellatrix. "The HMS Lestrange!"

"The _what _Lestrange, Rodolphus?" Voldemort asked with narrowed eyes.

"Her Majesty's Ship," Rodolphus replied proudly. He broke off at Voldemort's still narrowed eyes.

"I mean, erm, the Dark Lord's Ship, of course..."

"Gerroff!" Came a cry from the other mat. "My Lord! Barty's trying to push me off!"

"Why did I have to get stuck on a ship with _you _anyway?" Barty glared.

"Now listen up!" Voldemort said, throwing them each an ordinary float. "You are to use these as paddles. The waters around here aren't safe for us to swim in. You never know when our enemy might attack. Our mission is to find and retrieve Stewart Mallory from these waters." He looked around at the Death Eaters. Each face was the picture of terror. "Alive." He added.

Rabastan gulped.

"Rodolphus," he said, turning to the DLS Lestrange. "Take your crew into the shallows. Dangerous waters, they are. Full of nasty little children."

Rodolphus nodded.

"Barty," Voldemort continued, turning to the DLS Crouch. "You and Wormtail go into the deep end."

"The d-deep end, my lord?" Wormtail shuddered. Voldemort nodded.

"Yes," he said. "The open waters. Not many people go up there. You'll be on your own. But keep an eye out for the monster. Chances are he'll be prowling around out there."

Barty took a deep breath and saluted solemnly.

"Lucius and I will cover the middle," Voldemort said. "Now set sail!"

Using the floats as oars, the Death Eaters floated out to their positions, continually looking around them and beneath them for signs of Stewart. But he was nowhere to be seen... for now.

"I'm going forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards, over the Irish sea!" Rabastan sang. "With a bottle of rum, to fill my tum, and that's the life for me!"

"Rabastan," Rodolphus sighed. "We are not on the Irish sea, there is no rum, and if you don't stop singing, Bellatrix and I will throw you overboard."

"Is this treachery I'm 'earing?" Rabastan asked his brother dangerously.

"I'm the Captain vhere," Rodolphus replied.

"There'll be too many Captains on this 'ere ship," Rabastan growled. "I'll be plannin' a mutiny..."

Bellatrix just raised her eyebrows.

Meanwhile, on the good ship Crouch...

"Look," Barty said. "Let's get one thing clear. _I _am in charge here, what I say goes. Now you are going to row and I'm going to sit back and laugh at you, kapische?"

"Yes, yes, all right," Wormtail muttered.

Barty gave a satisfied smirk and glanced casually around. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he saw a few bubbles of air rise to the surface of the pool, but he couldn't be sure. He put on his goggles and leant over the side of the floating mat, if Stewart was there, he'd be able to see him.

"AAARRRGGGHHHH!" Barty yelled, falling into the water with a splash.

"Barty?" Wormtail said, whipping around. But he was gone.

Abandoning all oars, Wormtail reached into the water and grabbed Barty's goggles that had fallen off him when he had fallen into the water. Wormtail looked around in the water. There was no sign of Barty or Stewart anywhere.

He drew his head out of the water and took some deep breaths. Stewart had got Barty, he would be next. He had to warn the others.

He turned back to his floats, but they were gone! He saw them floating off far out of reach. Now there was no way of getting to shore!

He started to panic. He couldn't swim properly, and the only thing that stopped him from sinking were the floats inside his costume.

He gulped. He _had _to reach those floats. He could jump off and get them, but that would run the risk of Stewart getting him too. He could stay there, but that would mean crisping slowly like a rat kebab in the sun and with no way of getting back.

He thought.

He would stay there.

"Lucius!" Voldemort said. "Look!"

Lucius made a telescope out of his hands and looked to where Voldemort was pointing.

"It's Wormtail adrift on his own!" The lookout cried. "What happened to Barty?"

"The monster got him I expect," Voldemort said. "Oh well."

"Shall we go and rescue Wormtail my lord?" Lucius asked.

"Are you mad?" Voldemort exclaimed. "The monster's lurking around there, it would be suicide to go over there ourselves."

"Oh... OK."

"I am!"

"I am!"

"I am!"

"I am!"

Rodolphus and Rabastan were arguing over who was the captain, and suddenly, Rabastan came up with an idea.

"Why don't we ask Bellatrix?" He suggested.

"Excellent idea!" Rodolphus smirked. He turned to his wife. "Bella," he said. "My little poisonberry, which one of us is the Captain? And may I say that you look ravishing in that costume."

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows at him.

"You know what," she smiled sweetly. "I think I know who the captain is. Just turn around and I'll tell you."

"It's going to be me," Rodolphus whispered to his brother with a smirk.

"You'll be lucky," Rabastan glared.

"The Captain of this ship is," Bellatrix said, and shoved them into the water. "ME! HA!"

The two shocked Death Eaters submerged.

"All right," Bellatrix said after a few minutes. "Joke's over you two. Come back."

But nobody came out of the water.

"Guys?" She leant over the mat and looked in. They were gone.

Suddenly, the mat began to shake, Bellatrix clung onto the sides but it was too late, the mat upturned and she fell into the water with a loud splash.

"It's OK," Wormtail was saying to himself. He had rethought his plan of staying on the mat, and decided to brave the danger filled waters to get back the floats. "It's just water, you can do it, on the count of three you're going to jump. One... Two... AARRGGH!"

But poor Wormtail didn't need to jump in, because something pulled him in, and it may be wondered how he was able to be pulled underwater if he had his floats in his swimming costume, well the stupid rat left them on the mat, thinking they would weigh him down.

So then there were just two brave sailors left, who were watching their comrades getting picked off like flies, and bother wondering which one of them would be next.

"We have to get to shore now," Voldemort said. "Turn us around, Lucius!"

"Er, Captain," Lucius said. "You should see this."

"What?" Voldemort turned around, and his eyes widened in shock. Swimming towards them, zipping through the water like a shark, was Stewart Mallory.

"ROW! NOW!" Voldemort yelled, Lucius paddled as fast as he could, they reached the edge just in time, and leapt onto the side of the pool. Stewart glared at them,

"Where are the others?" Voldemort demanded.

"Like I would tell you!" Stewart replied, getting out of the pool.

However at that moment, Snape took off his sunglasses and stood up. He walked over to Stewart and took a firm grip on his shoulder, Stewart looked up at him nervously.

"Where are they?" Snape asked firmly.

"In th- the kiddies pool," Stewart replied.

"Thank you Snape," Voldemort smiled.

Snape shrugged.

"Life is pointless," he said as if it was a reply, and returned to his seat, still keeping a grip on Stewart's wrist.

"There you lot are!" Voldemort sighed, wading into the kiddies pool. The small children screamed and ran out.

The other Death Eaters were having a terrible time being tied to the side of the pool with strings of goggles tied together. Rabastan was muttering _'Over the Irish Sea' _under his breath, clearly frightened into meaningless babble.

By the time Voldemort and Lucius had freed them and got back to Snape, Stewart's mother had woken up.

"Oh Tom," she said. "Thank you for looking after my baby. He's had such a lovely time, haven't you sweetheart?"

Stewart nodded, grinning evilly at the Death Eaters.

"I'll give you a call next time I need a babysitter," she smiled. "Bye!"

The Death Eaters arrived home and collapsed in the living room. At that moment, Dolohov walked in, a large bowl of ice cream in his hands.

"Hi guys," he said. "Where did you go?"


	25. The Death Eaters play Quidditch

Dudes, first of all, hello. Second of all, I must apologise for abandoning you for three weeks without any warning. I went on holiday to the land of the haggis, aka Scotland. I came back with many a souvenir such as a little bagpipe magnet with plays an irritating tune when you press it. I then zoomed off to summer camp for five days.

Anyway, I kept meaning to tell you that I would be gone but, mothers nagging me to 'pack instead of being on that blasted computer' and all that jazz. Anyway. Stewart shall be beetling off to school soon, save the Death Eaters from torment for a while.

And I know that some of you may be a little upset to learn that Barty will be making himself scarce for a while too. As he needs to impersonate an ex auror and teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, lest you forget that every Death Eater has to have a computer, so he may send the gang e-mails.

I have a cunning plan about Barty actually, for those of you who knows what happens to him after he is discovered, you will know that he has a rather nasty encounter with a Death Eater, aka, having his soul sucked out. Nasty bussiness. But will Barty have his soul sucked out after all? Will he, probably one of the most popular Death Eaters, leave for eternity in the land of the souless? Would I do that to you? Well, you're going to have to wait a little less than a year to find out I'm afraid. Until then, worry youself senseless, endure sleepless nights of tossing and turning thinking about it. Or you could just read about the others. Because I shall give you one little clue. Barty does have some uses for his owls you know, and would be prepared for Death Eater attacks ever since he left Azkaban...

Anyway, on with the current story and not with one a year from now. I hope I'll still be writing these stories then. If I'm not, you are at perfect liberty to come and beat me up until I tell you what happens to Barty.

Right. I shall now stop talking about Barty. This chapter is called simply: The Death Eaters play Quidditch. Says it all. Read on, if you dare.

----

**The Death Eaters play Quidditch**

One common love shared among many wizards, is the game of Quidditch. Quidditch can bring together wizards from all walks of life, you would be hard pressed to find a wizard who hasn't heard of it.

Of course, this was no exception for the Death Eaters, and all of them loved it. Voldemort, who had never actually played it, had watched it often enough and found himself highly entertained, his favourite parts being when people were knocked unconcious by Bludgers.

The Lestranges had played it on several occasions, Rodolphus had been on the Slytherin team at Hogwarts, and had later taught his brother to play. Admittedly, Rabastan was not very good at all, and had some teeth knocked out thanks to hitting himself with his Beater's bat.

Wormtail had often gone along to James Potter's Quidditch matches when he was at school. He had never really understood it, but James was so amazing at flying, he just couldn't miss a single one. He had never tried it himself, but his friends had always assured him that it was fantastic.

Lucius had watched Draco practising on the Quidditch pitch at the back of their house many times, and Barty had followed it since he was a boy.

"Minions!" Voldemort called, the Death Eaters hurried into the room.

"Now I know how excited you all are about our little 'field trip' to the Quidditch World Cup soon," he said. There was a sea of grinning faces. "So I arranged a little get together with the Order for a game."

The grins were wiped away at once.

"No!" Wormtail squeaked. "Sirius and Remus will give me nasty looks!"

"I don't particularly want to meet Sirius _or _Nymphadora," Bellatrix said with a glare.

"They all think I'm dead!" Barty protested.

"SILENCE!" Voldemort yelled. The room fell quiet. "It is quite simple. We can wear our masks so people won't recognise us, and Bellatrix, you can play something completely different to Black and Tonks so you don't run into them."

They nodded slowly.

"Smashing!" Voldemort said. "So let's grab our brooms then eh?"

(Two hours later...)

"I am not being a cheerleader Lucius," Snape said flatly from the sidelines. "I am sitting down and giving non musical support."

"Spoil sport," Lucius said.

Snape sighed and drew out another very boring looking book.

Meanwhile, Voldemort was giving the team a pep talk.

"WE WILL DESTROY THEM!" He yelled. "WE WILL PULVERISE THEM! BY THE TIME WE'RE FINISHED THERE WON'T BE ANYTHING LEFT EXCEPT FOR A PILE OF FLAT SHOES! WIN!"

The six others stared at him. Rodolphus and Rabastan had been chosen to be beaters. Bellatrix had had a loud shouting match with Barty about being the keeper, and won. So Barty was stuck being a Chaser, along with Wormtail and Dolohov. And Voldemort was the Seeker.

It was not long after this little team talk that the Order arrived. The Death Eaters were about to pull on their masks, when they realised with horror that they had left them lying on the kitchen table.

"Crud!" Barty cried, ducking behind Rabastan as Dumbledore glanced his way. Wormtail gave a little frightened squeak as Sirius Black and Remus Lupin gave him nasty glares. And Bellatrix seemed to be having some sort of glaring competition with Nymphadora Tonks, which was only broken when Tonks tripped over Kingsely's broomstick.

"Ought to be more careful," Alastor Moody said from nearby. "Plenty of wizards broken their necks tripping over broomsticks."

"Thanks, Mad Eye," Tonks replied uncertainly, standing up.

The other Death Eaters noticed Voldemort stare at Moody for a minute before walking over to Barty and whispering something in his ear. Barty nodded and fixed the ex auror with an unwavering gaze.

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, Snape was trying not to lose his temper with Mundungus Fletcher who was talking constantly. Snape was being engulfed frequently in a cloud of green smoke from his pipe, and wrinkled his nose in disgust as the smell of burnt socks wafted through the air.

"You're a beater?" Bellatrix was laughing. "We better watch out for flying clubs then."

"_You_ better watch out for flying clubs, yes," Tonks replied with a glare.

"Just make sure you don't hit yourself sweetie," Bellatrix smiled nastily.

Tonks looked as though she was about to leap on Bellatrix when Remus, sensing danger, grabbed her.

"Aww," Bellatrix laughed. "The little werewolf come to save you? How sweet."

"A little help Sirius," Remus said as Tonks' temper got even worse.

"I'll just watch if you don't mind, mate," Sirius replied. "Bella's had it coming to her for years. Let her go for heaven's sake."

"I'd rather not," Remus replied as Tonks struggled stubbornly.

"Oh I bet you wouldn't," Sirius smirked.

"I didn't mean it like that," Remus blushed. "I-"

"Death Eaters!" Came a shout, and everyone stopped their hiding, glaring, fighting, reading and smoking to listen. Dumbledore was speaking.

"Please choose a team captain!" He shouted.

Voldemort walked up, and stood next to the headmaster.

"Thanks for the jam," he said. Dumbledore nodded.

"Heads or tails?" He asked.

Voldemort looked confused.

"It's muggle money," Dumbledore replied. "I got it from Arthur Weasley. Apparantly this is called a two pence piece. Isn't it fantastic? Anyway, on one side is the head of the Queen, and on the other is a decoration of some sort. You say heads or tails, I flip it, and whoever guesses right gets to choose which side of the pitch to play on."

"Er, tails," Voldemort said.

Dumbledore flipped it.

"Heads I'm afraid old boy," he said. "Better luck next time though, eh?"

Voldemort glared at Dumbledore's back as he turned around to talk to his team.

"Now is everyone here?" Dumbledore asked.

The Order looked around.

"OI DUNG!" Sirius yelled to Mundungus who was still chatting to a now rather peeved looking Snape. "GET OVER HERE!"

Mundungus hurried over, Snape gave a sigh of relief and went back to reading his book.

"Who's the referee?" Voldemort asked.

The others looked around.

"Can't be one of us," Sirius replied. "There's only just enough of us to make one team."

The Death Eaters looked around, then Barty had a diabollical idea.

"SEVVY!" He yelled. "YOU'RE REF!"

The Order turned to stare at him, and Barty pointedly turned to face the other way. Moody gave him a very odd look.

"Turn around sonny," he said.

"I'd rather not," Barty replied in a high pitched voice.

But at that moment, everyone was distracted by the struggle that was going on on the sidelines.

Lucius was trying to pull the book out of Snape's hands.

"I am NOT being referee," Snape said.

"You're a double agent anyway Snape," Lucius reminded him. "You'll be nice and fair."

Snape grudgingly marched up to the box of balls, glancing wistfully over his shoulder back at his book.

"Teams, take your positions," he said flatly. The two teams did, shooting each other nasty glares as they did so. "And... GO!" Snape released the balls, threw up the Quaffle and the match began.

Voldemort went shooting up at once to find the Snitch, there it was! Just in front of Dumbledore's face. He shot towards it, only to realise to his dismay that it wasn't the Snitch, it was the glinting gold from Dumbledore's half moon spectacles.

"Careful Tom," Dumbledore said with a twinkling smile. "You won't find the Snitch by flying at the other team's seeker.

"_You're _Seeker?" Voldemort asked, in a mixture of fury and shock.

"Of course," Dumbledore replied. "I always had a knack for the game in my day."

Meanwhile, Barty was having some problems. He had the Quaffle, and was being chased by Moody and Sirius, depserately trying to hide his face with the ball as he did so.

"I'll have that," Sirius said as he snatched the Quaffle away. Barty gave a squeak of fear as Moody glanced back at him suspiciously. He saw Moody do a double take in astonishment.

"Crouch?" He asked in amazement. Luckily for Barty. Moody crashed into one of the goalposts before he could reply.

"No, Rabastan, you swing it like _this_," Rodolphus was explaining to his brother, who was waving the bat around in a rather dangerous fashion.

He demonstrated and sent a Bludger flying towards Voldemort.

"Lestrange!" Voldemort yelled as he swerved out of the way, narrowly avoiding the Bludger. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry!" Rodolphus said.

Bellatrix was having some fun taunting Tonks.

"You couldn't hit that Bludger if your life depended on it!" Bellatrix said. "Which it probably does actually."

Tonks was trying to remain calm, but was getting steadily angrier, and, as on of the Bludgers shot towards her, she took one hard whack at it and tried to send it shooting towards Bellatrix.

However her aim was not that good, and instead of hitting the Keeper, it nearly hit one of the Chasers. One of the Chasers on her team.

"Oh my God, Remus I'm so sorry!" She said as he dived out of the way. He gave her a weak smile and caught the Quaffle from Sirius. Bellatrix, who was too busy laughing to pay any attention to the Quaffle, was surprised when she saw something red fly past her through one of the hoops.

"Goal for the Order!" Snape called from below.

"Damn!" Bellatrix snarled.

"You better shape up," Voldemort shouted at her. "Or I'll replace you with Crouch!"

"With who?" Dumbledore asked in surprise.

Moody swivelled around to look at Barty, who tried to hide behind Dumbledore.

"Now dear boy," said Dumbledore. "Hiding won't help. You know he has a magical eye."

"It _is _you!" Moody snarled. "Come here, you torturing scum!"

Barty's face went pale and shot off, Moody close behind.

Meanwhile, Voldemort was having some difficulty finding the Snitch and was getting rather fed up. So he decided to find it the easy way.

"Accio Snitch!" He cried.

"You can't do that!" Kingsely said.

"Well I just did!" Voldemort cackled. "Death Eaters RULE!"

"Snape," Kingsely shouted. "Wasn't that illegal?"

"Yes, it was actually," Snape replied. "Sorry Mr Riddle, but that's cheating."

Voldemort shot Snape a very dangerous look.

The Chasers for the Death Eaters team, minus one, were working their way towards the Order's goals. Dolohov and Wormtail passed the Quaffle to each other, avoiding the Order Chasers, also minus one.

"Where's Mad Eye?" Sirius asked.

"Where's Barty?" Dolohov added.

"Who cares?" Wormtail said.

The Chasers shrugged and carried on.

"WAKE UP DUNG!" Sirius yelled as Dolohov and Wormtail threw the Quaffle towards the goal. Mundungus had fallen asleep, leaning against the posts.

"Wot?" He said, waking up, and zoomed to the side as the Quaffle came towards him. "Blimey, don't knock me block off!"

"You were supposed to save it," Remus sighed.

"Oh, sorry guv'nor."

"Goal for the Death Eaters!" Snape called. "One all!"

Voldemort knew he had to get the Snitch. One of his Death Eaters was currently trying to outfly a paranoid ex auror, another was having trouble actually hitting the Bludgers, and another was trying to make his life as difficult as possible by not allowing spells in the game.

Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of what he knew was not the golden glint from Dumbledore's hald moon spectacles. It was the golden glint of the Snitch, and it was hovering just above Snape's head.

Voldemort had no time to lose, he shot towards Snape as fast as he could, Snape raised an eyebrow as he came flying towards him, stepped neatly out of the way and Voldemort collided rather painfully with the ground.

"Ouch," all of the players groaned.

Suddenly, two people shot into view, in the form of Barty flying as fast as he could, being followed closely by Moody who was shouting loudly.

"COME HERE YOU FILTHY, TORTURING, FOUL-"

"Careful Mad Eye," Sirius said. "You're beginning to sound like my dear old Mum."

Rabastan and Rodolphus seemed to be having a loud argument over who hit the last Bludger, Bellatrix and Tonks were shooting hexes at each other. Kingsely had whacked a Bludger at Wormtail who had fallen off his broom, Dolohov was trying to curse Moody as he sped around after his best friend, Sirius and Lupin were trying to curse Dolohov, and Mundungus had fallen asleep again.

Dumbledore just hovered, his eyes twinkling. Voldemort was still lying motionless on the ground, and Snape had gone back to reading his book.

"WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON HERE?" Came a shriek from nearby.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and cowered in fear at the furious little figure with red hair and an apron marching over.

"WHEN I SAID YOU COULD PLAY QUIDDITCH IN MY BACK GARDEN I DIDN'T MEAN THIS YELLING!" Molly Weasley shouted at the top of her lungs. "YOU WALTZ IN HERE, STICK UP THESE POLES AND THROW BALLS AROUND AND THEN HAVE THE AUDACITY TO START FIGHTING ON MY LAND! I WON'T HAVE IT! WHATEVER PETTY PROBLEMS YOU LOT HAVE WITH EACH OTHER YOU ARE AT PERFECT LIBERTY TO DISCUSS THEM, BUT DO SO SOMEWHERE ELSE!"

Dumbledore just twinkled at her.

"OUT! NOW!" She yelled.

"Molly," Dumbledore began calmly, but jumped when the fierce woman turned on him.

"YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW BETTER!" She said.

"AND YOU!" She turned to Voldemort who had just managed to pull himself up from the ground. "THEY DIDN'T TELL ME THEY WERE BRINGING DEATH EATERS HERE! GET OUT!" She grabbed the sharp end of Voldemort's broken broomstick and began beating him furiously with it. Voldemort hurried away as fast as possible, the Death Eaters in tow, the yells of Mrs Weasley could be heard far from The Burrow, as she ranted on at the Order.

"Mental note," Voldemort said to himself when they got home, rather bruised. "Don't mess with the Weasleys."

----

(Sniggers.)

I'm not entirely sure if Tonks was in the Order in Harry's fourth year, but in my story she is. Just livens things up a little. I shall write another one a lot sooner, perhaps even tonight to make it up to you guys.


	26. Voldemort has an evil plan

Good evening assorted losers. I have been stuck with the job of babysitting tonight. (Thank God not Stewart Mallory). The kids I'm looking after range from four to twelve, and, Bluey, if you're reading, they _are _owls, yes. (Barty wanted to do some evil meditation.)

Anywho, this story is very much improvised, all I know about it so far is that Harry Potter will be in it, and bear in mind that this is half based on the film and half based on the book. In the film Harry has the dream about Voldemort's evil plan at the Burrow, but in the book he has it at Privet Drive. However in the film the dream has Barty in it, and in the book it doesn't. My nice and fair version has Harry having the dream at Privet Drive, but it does have Barty in it. And I'm using the lines from the film, not the book, so I can get in Barty's little glance up at Wormtail when he goes over to the chair and turn it into a very Bartyish menacing glare. Everyone got that? Good. (Collapses.)

----

**Voldemort has an evil plan**

"My Lord, not that I don't think it a brilliant idea and all, but why are we meeting in this place?"

"Because we are, Crouch, is that a problem?" Voldemort snapped in reply.

"No, my lord, of course not."

"And it's cool." The Dark lord added.

"Yes, of course."

"And, erm," Barty walked across the room inside the Riddle House and over to the chair and picked up one of Voldemort's socks which was held up by some cellotape. "What is this for?"

"People are going to think that _that _is me," Voldemort replied proudly.

"Why?" The Death Eater asked.

"Because it will creep them out and build suspense," Voldemort replied irritably. "Stop asking so many questions."

"Just one more," Barty said.

"Fine. Last one, mind."

"What is _that _doing here?" Barty pointed at Wormtail, who glared at him.

"I have no idea," Voldemort replied. "Just gives me something to kick."

Wormtail winced, as if Voldemort's foot had already collided painfully with his rear.

"Right," Voldemort said with an evil grin. "This is the plan. When that Muggle comes up the stairs- what?" He sighed as Barty raised his hand.

"How do you know he's coming up the stairs?"

"Because I looked out of the window," Voldemort replied.

"But he could be going somewhere else," Barty pointed out. "How do you know he's coming here?"

"Because- because I do!" The Dark Lord snapped. "Now just shut up and listen. When he comes up the stairs," he shot a warning glance at Barty who had begun to raise his hand. "You will start reciting the lines I told you, except make it look as though you're talking to the sock. Then Nagini will come slithering in over there, and WHAMO! The muggle is dead!"

There was silence in the room. The only noise was the crackling of the fire.

"So the snake will kill him," Barty said at last.

"No, no, _I _will kill him, Nagini will just tell me that he's there."

"But if you know he's coming then why does she need to tell you that he's there?" Barty asked.

"Because- oh just be quiet. I think I can hear something." He hurried over to the other side of the room and waited.

Frank Bryce crept up the stairs of the Riddle House. He knew there were some kids in that room, he had heard them talking. He stopped as he heard an angry raised voice, and a frightened voice replying hastily.

"Oh, no my Lord Voldemort," Wormtail was saying. "I just meant, perhaps, if we were to do it without the boy."

"NO!" Came the angry reply. "The boy is everything! It cannot be done without him! And it will be done exactly as I say!"

Barty walked over to the sock, glared up at Wormtail and then tried to keep a straight face as he spoke to the sock.

"I will not disappoint you my Lord," he said, as solemnly as he could.

"_I will not disappoint you my Lord_," Wormtail mimicked jealously. Barty shot him a nasty glare.

"Good," Voldemort continued from the other end of the room. "First, gather our old comrades, send them a sign."

Frank Bryce froze as a huge snake, at least twelve feet long slithered right past him and into the room. It snaked it's way up the armchair and hissed at the thing sitting in it.

"Nagini tells me that the muggle caretaker is standing right outside the door," Voldemort said.

Barty glanced up at the doorway in mock surprise and Wormtail hurried over to the door.

"Step aside, Wormtail," Voldemort said. "So I can give our guest a proper greeting. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Frank Bryce collapsed.

"Can we go home now?" Barty asked in exhasperation.

Voldemort glared, ripped his cellotape covered sock off the armchair and stalked out of the room, stepping over the motionless body.

Two hundred miles away, the boy called Harry Potter woke with a start.

He got out of bed at once and picked up a piece of parchment and quill.

_Dear Ron_

_I had a weird dream. I know this is going to be hard to believe, and it's not funny, I'm dead serious, but Voldemort is a sock._

_Harry. _

----

I don't know how many of you have read A Series of Unfortunate Events, or even seen the film, but I was pondering this morning about writing another story for fanfiction, and I was thinking about doing a simliar story to this, except about Count Olaf and his troupe. What do you think? Too diabollical? Give me some feedback!

Reddy.


	27. Dolohov goes missing

Hello strange people. What type of specimens are you anyway?

This one's for The choco-holic, who had a smashing idea concerning Dolohov and his famous wardrobe escapades. And it is also for Ariel Copper and her friends, whose review had me laughing non stop. (I'm assuming that your name is Ariel, BTW, dude. Sorry if it's wrong, but I need some sort of name.)

I may get round to describing what happens in the wardrobe at some point, but really, just guessing and never knowing is better, I think.

----

**Dolohov goes missing. **

"Do you guys believe in alternate universes?" Barty asked. The Death Eaters were gathered in the living room, spending the afternoon discussing what were supposed to be interesting chats, but had turned out to be nothing but boring so far.

"What do you mean?" Lucius asked.

"Like, a world exactly the same as this," Barty said, trying to put his complicated Time Lord knowledge into speech that his fellow Death Eaters would understand. "Except something was a little different. As if the world was a result of different choices that we could have made at some point."

"Riiight," Bellatrix said. "All I believe is that you've finally lost it, Crouch."

"And there are people exactly like us, except different, they could have different names, different personalities, anything. They could even be different genders."

"I concur," Bellatrix said. "You're off your rocker."

"But don't you _feel _it?" Barty said, getting up and going into his 'Doctor-is-trying-to-make-a-point-to-someone-who-just-really-isn't-getting-it-except-having-to-get-the-message-across-by-being-hyperactive-and-dramatic' mode. "I know this is going to sound weird, but I've been to one, and I met three strange girls, who were exactly like me, Rodolphus and Dolohov."

"You mean they _looked _exactly like us," Rodolphus said in disgust. "Those must be some weird looking girls."

"No," Barty sighed. "I mean they _acted _liked us."

"What were they called?" Rodolphus asked.

"Oh come on," Bellatrix sighed. "You're not actually buying into his stupid joke are you?"

Barty ignored her.

"There was one just like you," he said to Rodolphus. "Called Agnes. And one just like Dolohov called Sophia. And the one like me was called Ariel. Weird, huh?"

There was silence.

"I'm beginning to agree with Bella," Rabastan said. "You're nuts."

Barty sighed. He could handle 'Lumic', but not a bunch od stupid Death Eaters.

"Father," he muttered angrily, remembering 'Lumic'. "Couldn't help but try and delete me, could you?" He grinned in the knowledge that his father had not only failed to 'delete' him, but had also been forced into one of those sweaty metal Cybermen suits.

"Loser," he sniggered to himself.

"Where's Dolohov?" Lucius asked. They had been ignoring Barty's ramblings to himself about 'Cybermen' and 'deletion', whatever that meant.

"Dunno," Rodolphus said. "In fact, I haven't seen him for hours."

"Shall we look for him?" Lucius asked.

"Life is pointless," Snape said from beside him, shrugging his shoulders, as if to say: 'why not, there's nothing better to do.'

"DOLOHOV!" Rodolphus yelled at the top of his voice, and then sighed. "Where on earth is he now?"

Dolohov had been missing for several hours now, and the Death Eaters had started to get worried. They had ruled out his strange wardrobe, because Voldemort had switched that with his own wardrobe in chapter thirteen, little did they know that in the dead of night he had switched it right back, using a carefully executed levitation charm.

So now there was a full search party for him, all of the Death Eaters were searching the house top to bottom, apart from Voldemort who said that he had better things to do.

They had all split up, thinking that Dolohov wouldn't have gone out of the house, let alone the garden, but, just in case, Rodolphus had been assigned the position of garden search. A role that he had found so far, to be utterly pointless as it was quite obvious that Dolohov was not in the garden.

Bellatrix, deciding that beauty was much more important than a missing comrade, had not moved at all, apart from to sit in the comfy chair and file her nails.

Lucius was looking in the kitchen, in every drawer, cupboard and upturned teacup.

Wormtail had decided to transform, and was looking for him in the floorboards.

Barty was checking the bedrooms, Snape had retired to his room, saying the the search was 'pointless' and they might as well 'prepare for the end of the world instead of looking for someone who's probably already dead anyway.'

Voldemort?

"Hah! Got you, you little annoying blob," he cackled, slamming his free hand down on the desk as he shot a little blue blob whilst fiddled around with a Doctor Who game. "That'll teach you to shoot me. Hmm, that guy looks a lot like Crouch... oh well. Hah! Take that, blob!"

What about Rabastan?

"Argh!" Rodolphus cried, as he walked casually past the lily pond to find his brother sitting in it, with a pair of goggles on his face and a snorkel in his mouth. "Rabastan, what are you doing?"

Rabastan removed the snorkel from his mouth before talking.

"I'm looking for Dolohov," he said, as though it was obvious.

"I shall ask no more," Rodolphus sighed.

"Oh come on," Barty sighed, peering round various bedroom doors. "Where are you?"

He looked into Wormtail's room. It was extremely boring, but Barty had looked everywhere and deserved a break. Snooping around in Wormtail's room would be fun.

But Wormtail's bedroom was so boring that it was rather depressing really. The walls were painted brown, in flaking paint, there wasn't a carpet, the brass bed looked creaky and old and was covered in tidy white sheets. A bedside table held a small assortment of books.

"_Mulctuary Money Management_?" He read from one of the titles. "Why on earth would Wormtail have that?" He flicked through the boring pages, until he came to a picture of the staff at the named bank.

Barty looked closely at the black and white picture. There was a short man with a bowler hat near the front row. He looked remarkably like Wormtail.

Barty shrugged. Maybe they were related.

He sighed and walked out of the room, rather glumly. Wormtail's unaturally tidy, boring room depressed him a lot.

"Found him yet?" Asked Lucius who was passing.

"Life is pointless," Barty shrugged. Lucius stared. Barty's eyes widened, he turned around and hurried off in the opposite direction.

"You are _not _Snape," Barty said to himself. "You are Bartemius Crouch Junior, aka the Doctor. You are not a greasy haired long nosed git."

"You are not _what_?" Asked a dangerously smooth voice from behind him. Barty spun around.

"A greasy haired long nosed git?" Barty tried.

Snape looked at him down his ridiculously long nose with an air of disdain.

"I don't like you," he said.

"Get in line." Barty replied, and walked off.

Dolohov's bedroom was quiet. Barty hadn't expected him to be in here. He walked in, perhaps there was a clue as to where he might be.

He peered at the floor. There was snow at the bottom of the wardrobe. He frowned, and walked over.

There seemed to be only one source of this snow. _That _wardrobe.

He opened the door cautiously and stepped into it. It was cold in the wardrobe, and he didn't like it much.

Walking to the back, Barty caught a glimpse of a dim light.

A little unnerved, he walked towards it, and stepped out into the snow.

"D-Dolohov?" He chattered. What on earth was going on? It was August!

"Can I help you sir?" Said a voice. Barty spun around and saw a strange man with what looked like the legs of a goat, carrying a pile of parcels.

"Who the hell are you?" Barty asked.

"I am Mr Tumnus," the creature replied. "Are you a son of Adam?"

"No, I'm a son of Barty," Barty replied. "Where am I?"

"You are in Narnia," Mr Tumnus said. "The White Witch has made it winter here, always winter, but never Christmas. Isn't that awful? I just await the return of Aslan, the talking lion so it can finally be spring again."

There was a pause.

"All right Dolohov, joke's over," Barty said at last. "Come out of that costume."

He strode over to Mr Tumnus and began tugging at his beard.

"Get off!" Mr Tumnus yelped, dropping his parcels. "Get off!"

"It's not funny any more," Barty said through gritted teeth as he yanked at the poor fawn's beard and hair. "Why won't this fake beard come off?"

"It's not fake!" Snapped Mr Tumnus, gasping in pain. "It's perfectly real! Now get off!"

"Barty!" Came a shout from behind them. Barty stopped what he was doing and turned around to see Dolohov, watching them in shock. "What are you doing?"

"But," Barty said, very confused. "If that's you over there, then who's..." he took a few steps away from Mr Tumnus, who shot him a very dirty look, brushed himself down, picked up his parcels and stalked away.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Dolohov asked when the fawn had gone.

"What are _you _doing here?" Barty replied. "This is so confusing. I need some tea."

"Yes," Dolohov said sympathetically. "You come back home and we'll fix you a nice pot of English tea. You're just hallucinating."

"By the way," Barty said. "Who was the woman in the picture in your room?"

"What picture?" Dolohov said stiffly.

"You know," Barty said. "The picture with the woman in it dressed in white with little hearts around it."

"Oh, _that _picture," Dolohov said. "No one."

When they had got back home, and Barty was having some tea, Dolohov slipped upstairs and scribbled something in his diary.

'_Remember to hide pictures of White Witch.'_

----

Oooh! I've got a fantastic idea! I'll do a competition!

OK, the question is: 'Based on clues in this story, who do think Wormtail is when he isn't being a Death Eater?

The first person to give me the answer in a review wins. The prize is that you get to make up an idea for the next chapter, it can be anything, no matter how ridiculous. You can give me the title too if you want.

I'll send a message to the winner and if you reply with your ideas, then I'll write it and update as soon as possible. Good luck!

Reddy.

P.S. Sorry to you dudes who don't read ASOUE, I'll do a more Harry Potterish competition later.


	28. The Death Eaters at the Quidditch Cup

Hello loserish freakish moving creatures. We do have a winner, and that was Nicoleb. (Well done dude.) The correct answer was, of course, Mr Poe.

Because her idea for the next chapter had Barty impersonating Moody and running away from his Dad, it did skip ahead a bit, and I was hoping to slip in the Quidditch World cup before that, so instead her idea will be in the chapter after this, which I will write as soon as I've finished this one. It was just so I could get the Death Eater's burning everything before that, because, as I'm sure you have realised, Barty is most certainly himself at the Quidditch World cup.

----

**The Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup**

"Was there really any need to do this, my Lord?" Snape asked, voice strangely high pitched and squeaky.

"Yes, Snape!" Said another voice, yet again, high pitched and squeaky, but obviously Voldemort's. "It is the only way to get into the World Cup unoticed."

"Well I don't really like it in here," Dolohov said, joining the ranks of the high pitched voices. "It smells funny."

The Death Eaters, just to make things a little less tedious for you, did all have high pitched and squeaky voices in their current predicament. And it was not because Barty had slipped large amounts of helium into Lucius's fruit cake. It was simply because each one of them were no bigger than 2cm high.

They were attempting to sneak into the Quidditch World Cup, so not only could they have a fun time burning down tents, but they could watch the match as well. Voldemort thought that it was all very prejudiced. Just because they were evil wizards, did not mean that they did not enjoy Quidditch, and he thought it was unfair that they were not allowed in.

(A/N: Why else do you think they waited until after the match to start burning things?)

So they were using Voldemort's plan and had shrunk themselves to 2cm high, and were currently sneaking in in the pocket of Lucius's robes. Needless to say that it wasn't the most comfortable place in the world, and, in Wormtail's opinion, the only thing that could have made it an any less enjoyable ride was having Barty there.

Barty, Wormtail had been delighted to learn, was not going to be with them, but was with his father, whom, Wormtail had _not _been too pleased to hear, had decided to attend the match, dragging his son along with him, under the Imperius and an invisibility cloak. Wormtail comforted himself in the knowledge that even if Lucius _did _run into Barty's Dad, then he would be quite safe in the pocket, and wouldn't see Barty anyway, on account of him being invisible.

Lucius marched along, his wife and son in tow with the usual smirk on his face. He had payed for seats in the top box, and was looking forwards to a nice evening of associating with very important people, and no riff raff at all.

That was why he was extremely surprised and annoyed to find Arthur Weasley sitting right at the front of the top box, along with his bratty children, Harry Potter, and that mudblood that Draco often talked about scathingly.

Good Lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much."

He was pleased to see Arthur give him an irritated look before Cornelius Fudge spoke.

"Lucius has just given a _very _generous contribution to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How-how nice," Lucius heard Arthur say. He would not be half surprised if that slight hint of jealousy that he had detected in his voice was real.

His eyes shot to the mudblood and gave her a half sneer, half glare. Honestly. How on earth was he supposed to enjoy the match when he was sharing the Top Box with a mudblood?

Meanwhile, in his pocket, the Death Eaters had been listening closely, trying not to make any noise, and only relaxed when the familiar swaying of the pocket started again, signifying that Lucius had finished glaring and was moving along the row to his seats.

Lucius sat down, his annoyance causing him to forget who he had in his pocket, and only remembered when he was notified by a chorus of small high pitched shrieks from his pocket, not too loud, but loud enough for the Weasley's to turn around suspiciously.

Lucius did not quite know what to say, so just sneered at them until they turned back round.

Lucius pretended to bend down to tie his shoelace, and instead took the oppurtunity to whisper an apology to the Death Eaters.

"You should be sorry," Voldemort hissed angrily. "I don't appreciate being sat on."

Lucius sat up again, and Voldemort sighed.

"If only I was out there," he said. "I'd love to watch that."

"Why _don't _we go out there?" Rodolphus asked.

"Because we'd be seen, idiot," Voldemort snapped.

"Not if we were careful," Bellatrix pointed out.

Voldemort sighed and relented, and so the Death Eaters climbed out of Lucius's pocket and looked around them.

It was impossible for Death Eaters 2cm tall to see over the row of red heads in front of them. Voldemort looked menacingly at the one head covered in messy black hair in front of them, and stepped forwards. Luckily, Rodolphus and Dolohov spotted the danger just in time, grabbed him by his arms and turned him away.

"Later," Rodolphus hissed.

"We have to get higher," Voldemort said, shaking them off. "How?"

He looked around carefully at the other people in the Top Box, and then his face broke into an all too familiar evil grin.

The Death Eaters followed his gaze, took a few seconds to comprehend, and then grinned too, apart from Wormtail, who was horrified, and looked as though he was about to cry.

Sitting one seat from the end of their row was a small bat eared creature in a tea towel. They all knew that this was a house elf, and they all knew that she was called Winky, but she was only the tell tale sign as to who was occupying the empty seat next to her.

To the unknowledgeable wizard, Winky was saving a seat for her master who was very busy, but to the Death Eaters, that seat was not empty at all, and it contained one person who the Death Eaters all knew well, and knew at once how they were going to watch the match. For, under the cover of an invisibility cloak next to the house elf who was hiding her eyes, was Barty Crouch Junior.

"Quick! This way!" Voldemort whispered, and they hurried across Lucius's lap, who seemed completely oblivious to their absence from his pocket and appearance on his lap, and looked at the long drop to the floor below them.

"I don't want to risk going across Winky's lap," Voldemort explained to his minions. "Even if she does have her eyes closed, her tea towel is thinner than Lucius's robes, and she might notice we were there."

"So we have to go down," Dolohov gulped.

"It's the only way," Voldemort replied. "Now, how do we get down?"

"We could parachute."

"We could abseil."

"We could fly." They all looked at Rabastan who had provided the last suggestion. He shrugged his shoulders. "It's a thought."

"I think we should abseil personally," Voldemort said.

"But we don't have any rope," Snape pointed out. He hadn't said much so far, feeling that being shrunk to 2cm wounded his dignity greatly. He also did not like his voice, no matter how Snape like he tried to make is sound, still sound high pitched and squeaky.

"We can use this loose end off Lucius's robes," Voldemort said, pulling at the piece of cotton. "Well don't just stand there, help me, you fools."

The Death Eaters pulled the loose piece of cotton on the hem of Lucius's robes, until, with one final tug, it came free.

Voldemort tied one end to the arm rest of the seat, and threw the other end down the ground.

"Right," he said. "Who's going to go first?"

The Death Eater's didn't reply.

"Oh for heavens sake," Snape sighed. "_I'll _go."

He strode over, grabbed the cotton, and stepped backwards off the edge, his face completely unchanged and his robes billowing behind him.

"Wow," Rodolphus said, peering over the edge to watch his rapid descent. "He does look like a bat."

Snape landed neatly and Bellatrix stepped forwards.

"Ladies first," she reminded them, before grabbing the rope and dropping down.

When all of the Death Eater's were finally on the floor, they hurried past Winky, over to the 'empty' seat at the end of the row.

"Where's his feet?" Voldemort asked. "Start searching."

The Death Eaters felt through the air, and Rodolphus was the first to find the soft texture of the invisibility cloak.

"Well done," Voldemort said. "Quick everyone, under it."

The Death Eaters hurried under the cloak and at once saw Barty's shoes.

"How are we going to get up?" Bellatrix asked.

"We'll have to climb up his trousers." Voldemort replied.

The others looked at him in disgust.

"On the _outside _of his trousers, you gutter minded fools." He spat. "Come on."

They clambered up onto Barty's scuffed shoes, and began the ascent of his trouser leg. They had just reached his knee, when there was a massive lurch, which wasin fact Barty jumping in surprise as he realised that there were several miniature people climbing up his leg. He looked down at them in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" He hissed.

"We've come to watch the match."

"Fair enough," Barty sighed. "Need a hand?"

He held out one of his hands, the Death Eaters stepped on and Barty lifted them up.

"Ah, that's better," Voldemort said as they stood on top of Barty's head.

"I can't see!" Wormtail complained, standing on tiptoes to try and see over a particularly tall brown strand of Barty's hair.

"Nobody cares, Wormtail," Barty said. "Give it up."

"Even when I'm 2cm tall you still pick on me?"

"_Especially _when you're 2cm tall." Barty replied with a sneer.

Winky opened her eyes and stared at the 'empty' space beside her in horror. Barty gulped. He had been speaking a little too loud.

"What is you doing?" She hissed to him as the Top Box applauded the Bulgarian players who were entering the arena. "You is getting your father into a lot of trouble if anyone finds out you is here."

"Sorry," Barty whispered back.

-

The Death Eaters piled back into Lucius's pocket later on when the match had ended. They did so with great disgust as they found an object that hadn't been there before they left. It seemed as though Fred and George Weasley had slipped a dungbomb into Lucius's pocket when he wasn't looking.

Lucius wrinkled his nose slightly, and waited until he was away from everyone else, and then looked into his pocket.

"How on earth did that get in there?" He asked, picking up the dungbomb and throwing it quickly into some bushes.

"Weasley twins," Voldemort replied, as if that was an answer. "Can anyone see us?"

Lucius looked around.

"No," he replied. "We're in the forest."

"Excellent," Voldemort cackled. "Now put us on the floor and turn us back to normal."

Lucius did so, and soon, several full sized Death Eaters were standing in front of him.

"Thank you," Voldemort said. "Now pass us our hats and masks."

Lucius enlarged the small pile of Death Eater hats and masks that he had been keeping in his other pocket and passed them around.

"Grab some flaming torches everyone," Voldemort grinned when they had finished. "We've got some tents to burn."

-

Harry Potter opened his eyes. He had no idea how long he had been out cold for, or how nobody seemed to stop to help him, or indeed how he wasn't burnt down along with the tents, with had stopped burning hours ago, and were little more than ashy skeletons of what they once were.

It was night time now, and much colder. He sat up groggily and stared.

Standing a few feet ahead of him was an extremely familiar looking man. Where _had _he seen him before.

Before he could contemplate any more, the man drew out his wand.

"_MORSMORDE_!" The man cried, and into the sky appeared a large green skull with a snake protruding from it's mouth, composed of what looked like emerald green stars.

Harry just stared, not the wisest of ideas. He could have at least _pretended _to be unconcious until the man went away, but no, and, of course, the man saw him, and to Harry's horror, started walking towards him.

"Harry!" The man stopped as he, along with Harry, heard the voice. "Harry, where are you?"

The man, who had a little more sense than Harry in dangerous situations, decieded to run in the opposite direction instead of waiting to see what would happen next. And by the time Ron and Hermione had appeared, he was gone.

"Harry," Ron said. "We've been looking for you for ages. We thought we'd lost you, mate."

Harry looked up at the emerald thing in the sky and grabbed his scar, giving one of his ever irritating gasps of pain.

"Stupefy!"

They all ducked as several ministry wizards rather recklessly decided to attack the first living things they saw.

"Stop!" Came a voice. "That's my son!"

Mr Weasley came dashing over.

"Ron, Harry, Hermione, are you all right?" He asked.

"We're fine," Ron replied. "We came back for Harry."

"What is that?" Harry asked, looking up again at the thing in the sky.

"That's the dark mark, Harry, it's _his _mark," Hermione informed him.

"Voldemort?" Harry asked. "Those people tonight, in the masks, they're his too, aren't they, his followers."

"Death Eaters." Mr Weasley confirmed.

"Everyone," Barty Crouch Senior said, gesturing to the ministry wizards. They walked off hurriedly.

"Wait!" Harry called. "There was a man. Before, there."

"All of you!" Barty Crouch said. "This way!"

They ran off in the direction Harry had pointed them.

"A man, Harry? Who?" Mr Weasley asked.

Harry thought. Whilst all this had been going on, he had remembered where he had seen that man before. After all, Dudley had watched so much television it was impossible not to pick up on whatever he watched. But what on earth would Mr Weasley think, not to mention the ministry, if Harry told them that the Doctor had shot the dark mark into the sky. So he settled for something a little simpler.

"I don't know," he lied. "I didn't see his face."

----

Now off to write Nicolebs chapter!


	29. Barty runs away

(Glances in disdain). Oh, I _suppose _ I could update. (Grins.)

The idea for this chapter was thought up by Nicoleb, the winner of the competition, in which Barty runs away to Hogwarts.

I had to happen some day, dudes. Let us now say, au revoir, to (nearly) everyone's favourite Death Eater.

----

**Barty runs away**

Barty crept down the stairs of the house as quietly as he could. It was night time, midnight, in fact, according to the large clock on the wall.

He was trying to keep his breathing as light as possible, and stepping only on the steps that he knew did not creak. For it would be a disaster if his father woke up and stopped him from running away to Hogwarts to pretend to be a teacher.

All he had to do was get out of the house, swallow some of that foul polyjuice stuff that Snape had made and he'd be good to go. He just had to be as quiet as he-

CRASH!

"Oh crud," Barty cursed as his knocked into one of his father's favourite vases and it smashed into lots of little pieces.

Barty listened. Had it woken up his father?

"BOY!"

Yes it had.

"What on EARTH are you doing?" Yelled Mr Crouch, appearing at the top of the stairs to find his son, fully clothed, in the midst of creeping into the hall, amongst the remains of his best china vase.

There was a tense moment of silence, in which father and son looked daggers at each other, each waiting for the other to attack.

"STUPEFY!" Barty yelled, proving that youth was indeed quicker than experience as his father was hit by the spell and stood as still as a statue.

Cackling to himself, Barty hurried to the door and yanked out his sonic screwdriver. He pointed it at the lock on the door and opened it, took one last look at his house, and then disappeared into the darkness.

-

"Let me OUT!" Came yet another yell.

"Oh, isn't there some way we can shut him up?" Dolohov moaned.

All of the Death Eaters were in the kitchen, gathered around the table, all glaring at the trunk in the corner.

"Shut up!" Rodolphus shouted at it, throwing a spoon at the trunk. The yelling subsided, although that may have been because of Voldemort's prompt silencing charm.

"Where _is _Barty?" Bellatrix asked grumpily. "I don't see why we have to stay up all night to wait for him if we're not even going anywhere."

"I think it would be nice to say a collective goodbye to him," Voldemort said, glaring at her. "After all, we won't see the guy for nearly a year."

"Oh, _you _won't," Snape grumbled. "I have to put up with him the whole time."

"He'll be in disguise, Snape," Voldemort pointed out.

"But he'll still be Barty," Snape replied. "And probably do everything he can to make this year a misery for me."

"Probably," Voldemort shrugged. "But oh well. He'll still send us e-mails, I shall make sure he has a computer in his office. Wormtail, what on earth is the matter?"

Wormtail was bright red and looked as though he might explode, a huge grin had been on his face practically all evening. He glanced at Voldemort, and then opened his mouth.

"I'M FREEEEEEEEEEEEEE! NO MORE BARTY! WAHOOO!"

There was silence after this little outburst.

"Yes," Dolohov coughed. "Well, there are _some _of us who will actually miss him."

"Not me," spat Bellatrix. "He's so irrtating and immature. Remember the time when he laughed at my broken nail?"

"And you insulted his mother." Rabastan pointed out.

"And that time when he threw up all over my new robes?" She continued, ignoring him.

"Well," Dolohov said. "You _did _deserve that."

Bellatrix shot him a dangerous glare and fell silent.

"I don't like him much either," Lucius said. "Remember when he turned my hair bright green?"

There was a chorus of sniggers around the room. Lucius glared at them.

"Well _I _don't think my roots will ever be the same again," he said indignantly.

"He has had his annoying moments," Voldemort remenised. "Like on April Fool's day, when he hung me upside down from the ceiling. _And _made that odd blue box thing appear on the lawn, with a muggle girl inside it."

"And when he used your best teaset," Snape said. "And sent us to another dimension."

"And let's not forget those times when he turned me into an owl, locked me in an anti gravity chamber, stole my maltesers, blamed me for the mess those owls made, soaked me in jam, stole my mini eggs, trod on my head, shoved a jam tart in my face, and when he forced me to row that floaty thing after trying to push me off it."

There was another silence.

"Nobody cares, Wormtail," Voldemort said at last.

Suddenly, Barty came sauntering through the kitchen door.

"This him, then?" He nodded at the trunk.

"Yes," Voldemort replied. "If you shrink it and put it in your pocket then you should be fine."

"Now," Snape said with a sneer. "Drink this, would you?"

Barty took the cup filled with polyjuice potion rather reluctantly.

"Say goodbye to this face, guys," Barty said, and then grinned. "Last time you'll see me in this silly old face."

He drank it, and all at once he started to change.

His dark brown hair turned into wispy ginger strands, he became shorter and stumpier, and one of his eyes became glass. His nose turned smaller, and with chunks missing, and several scars were formed across his face.

All too soon, the Death Eaters were no longer looking at the face of Barty Crouch Junior, but of Alastor Moody, the ex-auror.

Everyone froze when the transformation had finished, waiting for Barty's reaction.

He lifted a hand up to his head and ran to the mirror.

"I'm ginger!" He cried. "At last! Well gingerish, and to be fair, there isn't that much of it but still, I'm ginger! Wahoo!"

They stared at him as he felt his teeth with his tongue.

"New teeth," he said slowly. "That's weird. Well, I can't say it's an improvement at all, but hey. For Queen and country, eh?"

"No," Voldemort corrected him. "For _me_."

"Ah yes, of course."

"You need to stop speaking like that," Rodolphus said. "Try and sound more like Moody."

"I don't much like his clothes," Barty grimaced, trying a more Moodyish voice and looking at the odd clothes that he was wearing. "But still. Constant vigilance, eh?" He winked at the others.

"That's enough fooling around," Voldemort snapped. "Now apparate to Hogsmeade and go straight to the castle, all right?"

Barty nodded, and, with a small 'pop', he vanished.

"That's him gone for a while then," Voldemort grinned.

"Great," Bellatrix said. "_Now _can we go to bed?"

----

That's Barty gone then. You'll be hearing from him though, keep reading guys!

Reddy.


	30. The Death Eaters watch a scary film

Greetings my little friends. I haven't updated for a while, for which I am very sorry, but, back to school and all that. :(

So, what shall I tell ye of the Death Eaters? (Thinks.)

I have it!

----

**The Death Eaters watch a scary film**

It is a well known fact among the wizarding world, that Death Eaters are evil. There is not one witch or wizard who, when asked the question, 'would Lord Voldemort rather kill some innocent muggles or eat a plate of toast and strawberry jam', they would answer the latter. They would, of course, be wrong, as nothing, according to Voldemort, beats toast and strawberry jam, but that is not the point. The point is that everyone in the wizarding world considered the Death Eaters to be evil beyound all recognition, and the Death Eaters enjoyed having that title. So they tried to maintain it as much as possible.

The Death Eaters had done some pretty evil things in their lives, involving killing and torturing muggles, trying to capture Harry Potter, making nasty phone calls, throwing crisp packets into people's gardens, making rude jokes about the Minister for Magic, and generally not being very sociable members of society.

So Voldemort knew that there was only one more thing left to do to become completely evil.

"We must watch a scary film," he announced one September evening, when the Death Eaters had nothing better to do.

"A scary film, my lord?" Dolohov asked.

"Yes," the dark lord replied. "We have a TV, do we not?"

"Yes."

"And we are evil, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then we must watch a scary film!"

"But _why_?" Moaned Wormtail. "I don't like scary films."

"Well tough," Voldemort rpelied sharply. "You're watching one. If I have to cellotape your eyelids open myself."

"No, no, I'll keep them open on my own," Wormtail said quickly.

"What shall we watch?" Rodolphus asked.

"You go to the shop with Wormtail and rent something," Voldemort replied. "Anything, just as long as it's scary, and bring popcorn. No salt." He added as an after thought.

Rodolphus sighed and strolled out of the room.

"Now, everyone," Voldemort said, to the remaining Death Eaters, consisting of Dolohov, Bellatrix, Lucius and Rabastan. "Grab a seat, I'll be back in a moment."

There was a scrambled as the Death Eaters saved their seats, apart from Bellatrix, who waited until everyone had sat down.

"Rodolphus is sitting there," she said, turning to Rabastan who was sitting next to her on the sofa.

Rabastan glared at her, but, nonetheless, shifted a space to the left.

Bellatrix sighed and carried on filing her nails.

"Drinks all around!" Voldemort cackled, bringing in a tray of orange juice.

"I don't like orange juice," Bellatrix sniffed. "I only drink distilled water."

"Then go and get some," Voldemort said through gritted teeth.

"Rabastan, go and get some," Bellatrix yawned. Rabastan skipped out of the room, whistling an annoying tune.

Rodolphus came back a few minutes later with a video.

"What did you get?" Voldemort asked excitedly.

"The Ring," Rodolphus replied. Wormtail went a sickly shade of green.

"Yes," he said. "It was on the front doorstep for some peculiar reason, I think someone sent it in the post."

"Smashing," Voldemort said, unfazed by the fact that this mysterious video had turned up on their front doorstep. Now turn off the lights, it's starting."

Wormtail switched off the lights and scurried back to his place, hugging a pillow. Rodolphus sat on the sofa, grabbed a handful of popcorn and the film started.

_5 minutes later... _

"ARRRGGGHHHH!" Wormtail screamed.

"Wormtail, it's not scary," Voldemort said.

"But-in the cupboard-ARRGGHHH!" Wormtail stammered.

Bellatrix sighed, and carried on filing her nails.

_An hour and a quarter later... _

Wormtail had resorted to hiding behind his pillow and his face stark white as the strange, wet, well dwelling girl crawled out of the television.

"That," Dolohov said. "Is physically impossible."

"Televisions are made of a perfectly solid substance, people cannot crawl into, out of, or through them." Rodolphus agreed.

"And if they could, they'd get stuck half way through." Bellatrix added.

"Lucky it's a wide screen, eh?" Dolohov commented.

"But she really needs to do something about her hair," Lucius pointed out casually.

"And how on earth can she see where she's going with all those split ends in front of her face?" Bellatrix asked. Lucius shrugged.

Wormtail hid again as the girl pulled the hair away from her face, she did not look terribly happy, to say the least.

"Oooh," Bellatrix groaned.

"I know," Lucius sighed wearily.

"Two words of advice for you, girl," Bellatrix said. "Fake tan."

_Not that much later... _

"Well, that's it," Voldemort said cheerily. "Any more popcorn left?"

"All gone," Rodolphus said. "I don't know why, either. I gave the bowl to Ra-" he turned to see his brother munching on the remains of the popcorn.

He gave them a very popcorny grin.

"Anyway," Voldemort said. "I'm going to turn in, you lot-"

They all froze, and turned around slowly in their chairs. Wormtail gave a whimper and dived in between Rodolphus and Rabastan.

For, in the middle of Voldemort's sentence, the phone had rung.

_Ring ring. _

"I suppose," Dolohov gulped. "One of us b-better answer it."

"It won't stop ringing," Bellatrix agreed.

"Must crank her phone bill up a mile." Rabastan commented.

"I'll answer it," Rodolphus offered valiantly, getting up and walking over to the phone.

He picked up the reciever and held it to his ear.

"H-hello?"

"Seven days," whispered the voice at the other end.

"AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!"

Rodolphus slammed the phone down at once.

"Was it her?" Voldemort asked, trying to sound casual, but his voice getting caught in his throat.

"Yes," Rodolphus gulped.

"You wonder what kind of creepy waterproof phone she uses anyway," Rabastan said, trembling.

"Hang on," his brother interrupted. "That didn't sound like a girls voice."

"Do redial," Voldemort said, suddenly very suspicious.

Rodolphus pressed the redial button, put it on speaker phone so that the others could hear and listened to it ring.

"Hello?" Said a voice at the other end.

"Hello," Rodolphus said uncertainly. "Er, not meaning to be rude or anything, but we have reason to believe that you prank called me and my friends just now."

There were a series of whispers on the other end of the phone.

"Let me talk to them," someone said on the other end.

"Don't be ridiculous," the person holding the reciever said. "As if you could hold it."

"Shut up," came the second embarrassed voice.

"Look," Rodolphus said. "Sorry to interrupt, but did you prank call us?"

There was silence.

"Maybe."

"Well who are you, anyway? And how did you get our number? And how did you know we were watching that film?"

"Well, you see," said the voice on the other end. "_Somebody _thought it might be a good idea to post this video to that banker's house-"

"It was an accident!"

"Yeah, sure..." the first voice said sarcastically. "I have no clue how you did the wrapping up, though."

There was a large thump and it sounded as if the second voice had jumped on the first voice in anger, and a violent fight was now going on.

There was another voice, a woman's.

"Er, they can't talk to you right now," it said in an american accent. "They're fighting. Sorry. Pull them apart, Flo! One of them's going to get hurt!"

"Exactly!" Came another female voice.

"But he has an advantage!" The first voice called, muffled.

"I could beat you with two hooks tied behind my back!" The second voice said.

"Could not!"

"Could!"

"Couldn't!"

"Could!"

"Couldn't!"

"C-"

Rodolphus put the phone down. There was silence.

He turned to face the others, who were looking rather astonished.

"Well," Rodolphus coughed. "That, erm, that solves that then, eh?"

"I give up," Voldemort sighed wearily. "I'm off to bed."

"There aren't even any bankers living here!" Lucius cried.

Wormtail turned the other way to hide his prominently crimson face.

He had recognised those voices. And they would pay for putting him through that terrifying film. Just as soon as he apparated back to america, they would be sorry.

_Meanwhile, several thousand miles away... _

"Now I hope you both realise that your behaviour was out of line," one of the white faced women said. "Isn't that right, Flo?"

The other white faced woman nodded.

"And we want you to apologise at once." She added.

"F-for what?" Asked the bald man with the long nose, aka, the first voice. The second voice, aka, Fernald, was sitting on a chair next to him, looking rather shamefaced.

"For being naughty little boys," Flo said. "And we'll be telling the Boss about this when he gets back.

"It was his idea." Fernald said.

There was silence.

"I'm sorry?" Flo asked.

"You better go and ask him about it, eh?" The other said, nudging her sister with a wink.

"Oh, be quiet," Flo blushed. "I think we better forget this."

"Yup," Fernald nodded.

There was silence, and then he spoke again.

"Forget what?"

----

Yeas, my first real fic crossover. How did you like it? Was it good? Was it bad? Was it ugly? I'm hoping that more of you will read my Series of Unfortunate Events fic after meeting some of the characters in this chapter. You don't particularly need to know the plotline, although sometimes it helps. Even if you've just seen the film, or even if you've never heard anything about it, it's a bundle of giggles. I'm planning another crossover nearer Christmas. More info nearer the time.

I was forced to watch 'The Ring' at my friends house in year seven, and was scared out of my wits. It was damn scary, to say the least, and I spent most of the time doing a Wormtail and hiding behind my pillow. Three years on and I have named my guinea pigs Wilfrid and Dusty after characters in Brambley Hedge, because when I read Brambley Hedge, I didn't have any more 'Ring related' nightmares.

But hey, the best way to get over your fears of something, I find, is to have a chuckle at it, whether it be a scary film, your Great Aunt, or a plate of brussel sprouts. So, happy giggling dudes, and don't forget to glance at my SOUE fic. I need more reviews!

Peace out,

Reddy.


	31. The Death Eaters go bowling

I'm fifteen! Wahoo! I was fifteen on the 24th of September, and have only just decided to update.

----

**The Death Eaters go bowling**

It was a wet autumn day when Lord Voldemort came down for breakfast.

His minions were already at the table, eating their various morning victuals.

"Toast, jam, now," he ordered.

"Yes, my Lord," Wormtail stammered, and thrust the plate of toast and strawberry jam in front of his master.

Voldemort gave a grunt of approval and pulled the teapot towards him.

"It's certainly raining out there," Dolohov said, glancing out of the kitchen window at the rain pouring against the window pane.

"Well observed," Bellatrix said.

There was silence. The small party ate their breakfast without saying a word. Rodolphus couldn't stand it any longer.

"Oh, I can't stand it!" He cried, making them all jump. He banged his fist on the table, causing Voldemort to drop his toast and jam, it fell sticky side down on the floor. Rodolphus recieved the darkest, most piercing glare in the universe. But he didn't seem to notice.

"It's so BORING!" He said. "Ever since Lucius, Snape and Barty left, it's been nothing but day after boring day. I can't TAKE IT ANY MORE!"

He picked up a plate, Bellatrix swiftly grabbed his wrist.

"Just put the plate down," Dolohov said. "And everything will be fine."

"Breathe," Bellatrix said. "Inhale,"

Rodolphus took a deep breath in.

"And exhale," she said. "I said exhale. EXHALE NOW!"

Rodolphus did, and sat down heavily, grabbed his fork and picked at his fried eggs and bacon.

"I suppose he has made a point," Dolohov said, after Rodolphus has calmed down. "Things have been a little quiet around here lately."

"You mean relatively normal?" Bellatrix said. "Surely you can't tell me that you miss Lucius's unatural ranting on hair care products, Snape's dark and dismal prescence, and Barty's catastrophic and generally chaotic antics?"

"Well..."

"I'm glad to see the back of them," she said. "And long may they stay away."

"I agree!" Wormtail piped up. He shut up after recieving a knife like look from Bellatrix.

"Well," Voldemort said. "I fail to believe that our big happy Death Eater family should have their personalities dictated by those three. True, they did have, erm, interesting habits, but look at us! I am your almighty leader. Dolohov, you're always wandering off into that cupoard, which has not gone unoticed, by the way. Bellatrix, you're always so sarcastic, Rodolphus, you run around like a slave doing practically everything she tells you to, and when not doing that, you're probably one of the only one of us, apart from me of course, who has a brain cell. Wormtail, you're the snivelling little punch bag that we push around. And Rabastan," he glanced at Rabastan, who seemed to be having problems using his cutlery and wasn't paying much attention. "You... erm, er... Well the point is: We all have unique personalities, and we will get through this year as we always have done, just a few minions short. And the first thing we shall do to make this year exciting is to go somewhere so exciting, and potentially dangerous, that it is guaranteed to start this new era off with a bang. We shall go to... the bowling alley."

There was silence.

"The, erm, bowling alley, my Lord?"

"Yes!" Voldemort cackled. "It's a bundle of laughs. And plus, I have free passes that I won in the paper."

"We'll get our raincoats, then, shall we?" Rodolphus asked.

Voldemort nodded.

"By the mini van in five minutes! And casual dress, those bowling shoes would look rather ridiculous with our normal attire."

They all left the table. Well, nearly all of them did.

"Come on, Rabastan," Rodolphus said, dragging his brother away from the unfathomable puzzle, that was working out how to co-ordinate his knife and fork so it would cut his bacon.

So, the Death Eaters arrived at the bowling alley, soaking wet, and wishing they had stayed at home. They all made an effort to stay away from Bellatrix who's umbrella had blown away, and who's hair looked as though it had just been dunked in a bucket of cold water.

"I can't stand this," she muttered, drawing out her wand.

"Come here, sweetheart," Rodolphus said swiftly, drawing her away from a group of muggles who looked as though they were wondering what that 'stick' was that she had taken out of her pocket.

"If you are going to do a drying charm, make sure to do it out of sight," he hissed, before shoving her behind one of the sweet dispensers.

"There," she said after a couple of seconds, reappearing with much drier hair. "Good as new!" She glanced at her reflection in the glass of the smarties dispenser and smiled, before stalking off to find the others.

Rodolphus gave a sigh of exhasperation and scurried after her.

"You better look after those shoes," Voldemort was saying, glaring at the spotty faced teenaged muggle at the shoe counter. "If I come back and find that my shoes have gone, there will be hell to pay."

"Yes, sir," the spotty shoe administrator replied, seemingly unfazed. "Of course, sir. May I take the oppurtunity to reccommend our _'Mr Icey' _cold drinks at the food bar? One hundred per cent natural flavourings, only 75p."

Voldemort glanced at him in disdain, pulled on his bowling shoes and swept off.

"Lane five," he muttered. Spotting an aisle marked 'lane five', he headed towards it. "MINIONS! Lane five!" He called.

He spun around when he reached lane five, and waited for his minions to appear. Four of them were putting on bowling shoes, and one of them was working out how to tie the laces.

Voldemort took the oppurtunity to look around. In lane lane 6, there was a little group of children, probably there for a party. A rather agitated looking woman was sitting on the seat with a five year old girl on her knee. The little girl looked at Voldemort and gasped.

"Look Mummy!" She said. "That man has no nose!"

The woman turned around and saw Voldemort.

"No, dear, no," she said, in what she probably thought was a hushed voice. "You musn't stare. He's had what we call; plastic surgery."

"Platstick suggurry," the little girl repeated slowly.

Voldemort turned the other way with a snarl of annoyance to look at the group on the other side of them.

Lane four was in use by four rather loud young men, who, whenever one bowled a strike, cheered and jumped up.

All in all, Voldemort did not care much for either of their bowling neighbours.

He looked at the small keypad in front of him, just when his minions appeared, all in the same horrible red and white bowling shoes.

"How do you operate this thing?" Voldemort asked them. They shrugged.

"Let _me _look at it," Bellatrix said. She bent over the keyboard, and, within a matter of seconds, they looked up at the screen above their aisle and saw all of their names on a table.

"I did it alphabetically," she said. "Which means, Dolohov, you're first."

They all turned to Dolohov.

"Erm, forgive me for being ignorant," he said timidly. "But how exactly does one go about playing this game?"

"You throw the ball at those skittles down there," Rodolphus said, pointing down the long alley at the bowling pins at the bottom . "And try and knock them all over."

"OK," Dolohov said uncertainly, picking up one of the balls on the conveyor belt with three fingers. "But I don't know if I'll be able to throw that far."

"What?" Rodolphus asked. "No! Wait-"

But it was too late. Dolohov had brought the ball above his head and flung it as hard as he could at the skittles at the bottom. Needless to say that it did not go according to plan, and the ball collided most noisily on the polished wood with a crash about half way down, before lazily drifting off to the side and rolling down the gutter.

This seemed to have caught the attention of the young men in lane four, and they laughed at Dolohov as he sat bashfully on the end of the bench.

"I'm next," Bellatrix declared, and, having a little more sense than Dolohov, picked up a bowling ball from the conveyor belt, drew her arm neatly back and swept the ball out of her fingers. It glided down the alley and knocked the skittles cleanly over.

"Well done," Rodolphus said, impressed. "Have you never bowled before?"

"No," she replied, sitting daintily on the bench. "But, my dear, there is something which most of you lack," she shot a glare at Dolohov at the other end of the bench, "Called common sense, which I put into action."

"Hey, I'm Paul. You like bowling, then?" Asked one of the young men from lane four, leaning over to Bellatrix. She gracefully ignored him. Rodolphus shot the man a scowl and promptly sat down next to his wife, putting an arm around her shoulder.

"My name's not actually Wormtail, you know!" Wormtail squeaked, looking indignantly up at the names on the scoreboard.

"Really?" Asked Rabastan.

"Yes!" Wormtail replied. "It's Peter!"

"Well I never knew that!" Rabastan said, genuinely surprised. "You learn something new every day, eh?"

"Oh, just bowl!" Wormtail said crossly.

Rodolphus watched his brother carefully, looking for any signs of danger.

"Rabastan," he said warningly, as Rabastan picked out the smallest type of bowling ball. "I would recommend a bigger one..."

"I'll be fine," Rabastan said. "I watched Bellatrix. I know how to do it!"

He drew back his arm, and tried to sweep the ball gracefully out of his hands like Bellatrix did, but alas, Rodolphus had been right. Rabastan should have had the common sense to choose a larger ball as he did have such big fingers, and they were not accustomed to slip in and out of small spaces, like the holes in bowling balls, quickly. The result of this unfortunate fact, and Rabastan's rather dense head, meant that not only the ball went gliding along the shiny surface towards the pins, but so did he.

Rodolphus leapt up in dismay as his brother went soaring (very gracefully, nonetheless) across the wood and collided most painfully with the skittles at the other end.

This caused uproar. Most of the Death Eaters and all of the other visitors to the bowling alley burst into fits of laughter, while Rodolphus tried to hide behind Bellatrix, ashamed at the fact that this was his brother.

And all the while, a small beeping noise could be heard. Rodolphus glanced up at the scoreboard, where some writing was flashing: _Line was crossed. Disqualified bowl. _

Rabastan had not actually moved since the row of pins and the black backing had caused him to stop, and was lying motionless among the skittles, bowling ball still attatched to his hands.

Rodolphus scuttled down the lane towards him.

"Are you all right?" He asked his brother. "Speak to me!"

"Did I hit them?" Rabastan asked groggily.

"You could say that, yes," Rodolphus replied uncertainly and helped his brother up.

Rabastan limped back up the aisle, leaning on Rodolphus's shoulder, and blushed at the laughing crowds of people. Rodolphus glanced over at the shoe counter and noticed that even the spotty teenaged boy was snorting with laughter. Rodolphus could not take it any more. This was his brother! He stopped right there in the middle of the lane, let go of Rabastan and glared defiantly round at the crowd of onlookers from their various lanes. They fell silent as they regarded the furious expression on his face.

"I am shocked," he began. "Very shocked indeed. You have just witnessed the painful and completely unfunny accident of a poor unfortunate man. And what do you do? You stand there and laugh. Yes, laugh!" He paused for dramatic effect, the whole place was silent and listening to him. He continued. "When I arrived here earlier on, I did take a moment to look around and regard the different people, and I saw families, and friends, and groups of people having a good time and enjoying each other's company. I saw no dislike at all, I saw mothers and children, and sisters and brothers. And that is what this man is to me. No, he may not be able to work his knife and fork, or tie his laces, or choose the correct sized bowling ball, but he is still my brother, and he is taking all of this ridicule in silence! I think he deserves a round of applause!"

There was silence.

"Lighten up," came the grumbled reply of one of the young men in lane four, as the crowds subdued and everyone went back, muttering to their games. it was not quite the reaction Rodolphus had been expecting, but still, better than them laughing at him.

He helped his brother back to the bench and sat down next to Bellatrix.

"Quite a speech," she said, in what was almost an admiring tone. Almost.

"Really?" Rodolphus asked.

"Indeed," she sniffed. "Anyway, how are you going to get that ball off his fingers?"

"Like so," Rodolphus said, giving the ball a good hard tug, and, even before Rabastan had time to yelp in pain, the ball was off.

"I'll be back in a moment," Voldemort said, standing up, and headed towards the toilets.

"My turn," Rodolphus said, and stood up. He picked up a ball and turned to face the skittles. He blocked out all sounds and movements, and drew his arm backwards. Poor Rodolphus. How could he have predicted that Paul would 'accidently' have tripped whilst holding a _Mr Icey_, and how could anyone have forseen that the cold beverage would have gone flying through the air, and just 'happened' to land on Rodolphus's head, a split second before he released the ball. He spun around, glaring at the smirking young man, but alas, he had not let go of the ball, and it went soaring over the heads of the Death Eaters and cannoned into Paul's stomach, sending him crashing to the floor.

Voldemort walked out of the toilets, quite content. He was ready for more bowling, and couldn't wait to send Wormtail zooming up one of the lanes too.

Imagine his surprise as he stepped out of the door to the toilets and froze as his eyes met, not a happy bowling scene, but yelling, fighting and general commotion, mostly centred around lanes four and five, where two men were being restrained by their comrades from attacking each other, and had resorted to hurling abuse across the benches. One looked as though he had been winded, restrained by two other young men from lane four, and one was red in the face and being held back by Dolohov and Rabastan. The entire place was in catastrophe, apart from Bellatrix who was sitting on the bench between the two men, casually filing her nails.

"Please stop," drawled the spotty faced lad from the counter, who had an unconcerned look on his face of one who was seperating eggs instead of two full grown men. "You are disrupting the other customers."

"DO SOMETHING!" Voldemort snarled at him. The boy turned lazily towards him.

"May I recommend our _'Mr Icey'_ cold drinks at the food bar. One hundred per-"

"ARGH!" Cried Voldemort in frustration. "WHO STARTED THIS?"

Bellatrix glanced up at her master.

"What can I say?" She shrugged. "Men love me."

----

My internet works! Ta da!


	32. Barty meets Fred and George

I have sprained my ankle. :( Not the best of things to do, considering I had Judo on Wednesday and had to miss it for the first time EVER! I sprained it on Monday by running for my bus, and landing funny, hearing a horrible 'crack' as I did so. Then realising that it wasn't in fact my bus, and that my bus had already gone, it started to hurt. When I was finally picked up, I had to sit at home with a packet of frozen brussel sprouts on it. All in all, not the best day of my life. It's getting better now, not as painful as it has been, but I have the most colourful bruise I have ever seen, purple, red, green and blue, and it's swollen, and I have to wear a tube grip, which is highly impractical.

Therefore, to cheer myself up, I shall write another chapter. So, why not, let's find out what's going on at Hogwarts!

----

**Barty meets Fred and George**

Snape strode down the Great Hall like a bat during breakfast, smirking at the looks of terror from the first years, and dislike from the higher years.

He was not the most popular member of staff, and probably, all considered, for good reason too.

He made a note to give Potter, Weasley and Granger an extra scornful sneer as he swept by.

He looked up at the staff table, and gave an inward groan as he saw that the only available space was next to Professor Moody.

It wasn't the fact that it was Professor Moody that made Snape so reluctant to sit next to him, it was the fact that it wasn't Professor Moody. His appearance had been taken on by the most irritating, imature being in existance, and now he had to put up with sitting next to him all through breakfast.

Barty Crouch Junior himself, was not that overjoyed at sitting next to Snape either, he was not having a terribly good day. Not only was he still annoyed about looking like the remains of a dinosaur that had just been dug up, but he still had the horrible taste of polyjuice potion in his mouth, and now faced sitting next to the giant bat.

"All right, Sev?" He said as Snape sat next to him.

"How many times have I told you?" Snape hissed at him. "Don't call me 'Sev'. Alastor Moody has never called me that in his life. It would be very suspicious if he started to now."

"Fine," Barty replied. "Listen, though," he dropped his voice. Snape leant in, expecting some serious news. "Keep an eye on Sprout, I put a toad in her cereal. Should be quite funny."

Snape gave a groan of despair.

"For heaven's sake," he whispered. "You _can't _keep doing this! It will blow your cover. Who worse to pick for this job? No more practical jokes! You'll have to live without them for a while."

At that moment, there came a squeal from further down the table, as Professor Sprout had the shock of her life as her cereal jumped at her, splashing milk and cornflakes everywhere. Barty sniggered. Snape looked at him in disdain.

On the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron and Hermione turned to Fred and George Weasley.

"Did you do that?" Harry asked, smiling.

"No," Fred said, a little shocked. "Did you, George?"

"Wasn't me," George replied.

"Whoever did it's a genius," Fred said admiringly. "We've never been able to sneak anything into the teacher's food."

"You know what this means," George said with a grin.

"We have to find out who it is," Fred finished.

"And we will..." George added.

"If it's the last thing we do." His twin said.

-

"I bet they will, as well," Ron said to Harry and Hermione as they walked along the corridor. "Fred and George have hardly ever had any competition for their practical jokes."

"Another Fred and George like person in this school?" Harry said. "I don't think we're ready for that."

"Well I think it's irresponsible," Hermione said huffily. "Honestly. One day one of their jokes is going to get out of hand, and someone will get hurt."

"Nah, they wouldn't do that," Ron assured her. "They're always really careful that their jokes are risk free."

BANG!

The three of them jumped as they heard the explosion from round the corner.

They hurried round to see Filch's office door burst in by what looked like a Filibuster Firework.

"Oh yes, very risk free indeed," Hermione said icily.

Fred and George ran into view panting, and looked around wildly.

"Where is he?" They asked.

"Who?"

"The person who pulled off this magnificant joke." Fred replied with the upmost admiration, regarding Filch's office door.

Filch appeared, wheezing and clutching his chest, took one look at his door, now removed from it's hinges, then at Fred and George, and his face turned purple.

"You broke down my door!" He cried.

"No!" Fred and George shouted in unison, completely truthfully. "We're inoccent!"

"How many times have I heard that?" Filch gave a nasty sneer.

"Something the matter?" Came a voice. The small group turned to see Professor Moody standing behind them.

"These two boys blew up my door," Filch said at once.

"Did they now?" Moody said, Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a flicker of a smirk cross the professor's face before he resumed his look of indifference.

"You better give them a detention then," he said.

"But we didn't do it, Sir!" Fred cried desperately.

"I'm sure that if Mr Filch said that you did then you did," Moody replied firmly.

"You two come with me," Filch said, his anger replaced by sheer joy at punishing these two miscreants, and marched them into his office.

Professor Moody turned and walked away, unable to keep a straight face any more. So, these Weasley twins considered themselves to be a dab hand at practical jokes, did they? It certainly sounded like it from how Filch had immediately suspected them. Perhaps this year would be a little more bearable than Barty had thought.

----

Will the Weasley's ever find out who the mysterious practical joker is? It certainly won't be a boring year, that's for sure...


	33. The Death Eaters on Halloween

Happy Hallowéen, various freaks. However you choose to spend it, remember to get lots of sweeties! I'm high on trick or treating sweets at the moment, aren't we all. Well, actually... never mind. Onwards and upwards!

----

**The Death Eaters on Hallowéen**

Voldemort turned to the others.

"AAARRRRRGGGHHHH!!"

"I'm not in my costume yet, fools," Voldemort snapped.

"Oh."

"Sorry, my lord."

"Isn't trick or treating supposed to be for muggle _children_?" Rodolphus asked.

"Who cares," Voldemort said dismissively. "It involves sweets, and I like sweets."

"You know," Dolohov said. "Hallowéen is not just about trick or treating."

"Oh really?" Voldemort sneered.

"Yes," Dolohov continued. "It is a tradition that dates back hundreds of years ago, based on a pagan festival; the one night of the year where the dead were supposed to rise from their graves and cause mischief. Trick or treating derives from when the peasants went around on Hallowéen, asking the rich for sweet pastries and bread. It became popular again when people emmigrated over to America from eastern Europe, bringing their ancient traditions with them. The Americans then made it seem slightly less gruesome by making the day a holiday, and in the evenings, let children dress up as ghosties and ghoulies and whatever, and go around knocking on doors and asking for sweets."

They all stared at him.

"How do you know all that?" Rodolphus asked.

Dolohov shrugged.

"Well," Voldemort said. "I hope you are all in your costumes."

The Death Eaters took a minute to regard each others costumes. Rodolphus was dressed as a vampire, or it could have been Snape, nobody was really sure, either way it was scary. Rabastan was wrapped in what seemed to be several roll's worth of toilet paper. Dolohov had a strange mask on, Wormtail was a pumpkin, and had a large, fake pumpkin around his middle and a little pumpkin top hat to top it off, and Voldemort was wearing a sheet on his head, with small eyeholes cut where his eyes should be.

"Bellatrix!" Voldemort yelled from under his sheet, voice slightly muffled. "Come on!"

"Coming!" Came a voice from upstairs, as Bellatrix came downstairs, pretty much the same except for pointier, more lethal looking heels, more make up and a witches hat on her head.

"What are you?" Rabastan asked.

"A witch?" Bellatrix suggested.

"Really?" Rabastan said.

"What do you think this is?" She asked him, gesturing to her hat. Rabastan shrugged. She sighed. "Are we going or not?"

"Yes," Voldemort said. "Enough fooling around. Is the pumpkin there?"

"Carved and lit," Dolohov confirmed.

"Smashing," Voldemort grinned though his sheet. "Everyone out, then."

The Death Eaters filed out of the house and into the street outside. The night outside was cold and dark, the only light coming from the pumpkins in people's windows and the stars and moon above them.

There were not that many little children about to annoy, so the Death Eaters made their way to the first house, and knocked on the door.

"Trick or treat!" They said, as the woman opened a door with a baby in her arms. The youngster took one look at the Death Eaters and began to cry.

"Oh, it's all right," the mother cooed. She turned to the Death Eaters. "Aren't you a little old to be trick or treating?"

"Never too old," Voldemort said cheerily.

"Yes," the woman said uncertainly. "Well, hang on, I think I have some mars bars." She disappeared into the house, and reappeared with some chocolate bars.

"Thank you," Rodolphus said, as Voldemort certainly was not about to say anything.

The woman sniffed and closed the door rather briskly.

Several houses later, and the Death Eaters were ready to walk back home.

"Ha ha!" Voldemort said as they wandered back down the road, plastic bags full of sweets. "We have sweets! Now all we need to do is walk home, and-" Voldemort froze in the middle of his sentence, and the Death Eaters followed his gaze, and gasped as they saw someone who they had dearly hoped they would not encounter again.

"Hello Mr Riddle," Stewart Mallory said, trademark evil glint in his eye as he regarded the Death Eaters with disdain.

"I like your costume, Rabastan," he nodded to the Death Eater wrapped in toilet paper.

"Thank you," Rabastan said, slightly muffled.

"Where's Barty?" Stewart asked, after giving the small group the once over.

"He's at Ho-" Rabastan began, but Rodolphus stopped in.

"He's in 'Ho-' where?" Stewart asked.

"Ho... spital," Dolohov said slowly. "He broke his... nose?"

"What happened?" Stewart asked. "Someone hit him?"

"Yes, that was Rodolphus," Dolohov said. Rodolphus glared at him. "Barty took his hairbrush."

The others gave Dolohov a withering look.

"He'll be fine," Bellatrix finished. "Anyway, we really must be going..."

"What are you supposed to be anyway?" Voldemort asked the six year old.

"Me."

"Oh, of course."

The group tried to walk away, but Stewart stepped into their path.

"You know," Stewart said, advancing towards the Death Eaters, who retreated in terror. "I didn't get any sweets. A lot of the people who answered the door said that I did not have a costume on, so did not deserve any." He stopped, and tilted his head to one side, not removing his eerie unblinking gaze from them. "Of course, I dealt with them."

The Death Eaters turned slowly to the house across the road, and saw the door ajar, and a pumpkin blown out and upside down.

"AARGGHHHHHH!!!" The Death Eaters fled off down the street as fast as they could go. They sped around the corner and screeched to a halt in horror as they saw Stewart blocking the road.

"I want your sweets, Mr Riddle," he said.

The Death Eaters turned the other way and ran off again, still yelling at the top of their lungs.

Wormtail suddenly collapsed.

"Go on without me!" He said, as the others turned around. "I'll be all right!"

"No, Wormtail!" Voldemort cried. "We can't leave you!"

Wormtail looked up at his master for a minute as he knelt down, still in his sheet, beside him. "You have our sweets!"

He grabbed the plastic bag from Wormtail, gave a cry as he realised Stewart was standing just behind them, gave Wormtail a hefty kick for good measure, and took off again with the others.

Unfortunately, the shape and size of Wormtail's pumpkin costume meant that he didn't feel the kick, but it sent him rolling down the road towards Stewart, who stepped neatly aside as Wormtail as an orange blur went spinning off down the hill.

SLAM!

Voldemort slammed the front door as they reached the house, and locked it firmly.

"Do you think we lost him?" Dolohov asked, panting.

"I don't know," Voldemort said. "Turn on the lights."

Rodolphus flicked the light switch but nothing happened.

Suddenly, there was a flash of lightning.

"I thought it was clear!" Dolohov pointed out.

"Where's Rabastan?" Bellatrix asked suddenly.

They turned.

"Rabastan?" Rodolphus called into the dark.

There was no reply.

Suddenly there was a crash of thunder, the front door creaked open, even though Voldemort was sure he had locked it, and four sillhouettes appeared in the door.

"AAARRRRGGGHHHH!!"

The lightening subsided, the lights flickered back on, and the four terrified Death Eaters realised that the figures in the door were not frightening at all, well, one of them was, but two of them were Rabastan and Wormtail, one was Stewart's mother and one was Stewart himself.

"Hello, Tom," Mrs Mallory said, smiling at Voldemort, who was beginning to wonder how anyone could tell who he was if he had a sheet over his head. "I managed to rescue one of your friends from the bottom of the hill, and one tangled up in Mrs Gregory's hedge.

Anyway, little Stewart didn't get any sweets, and you seem to have a rather large supply, probably for all the little children? So, we'll just take those."

She took the six bags and stepped out of the door.

"Happy Hallowéen, Mr Riddle!" She said cheerily, and walked off.

Stewart grinned evilly at them, they stared back at him. Voldemort realised, so he really wasn't an evil demon child! He just wanted sweets, like any other boy his age. He was perfectly ordinary!

Suddenly, there was a flash of lightning, and, when it flickered away, Stewart had gone.

The Death Eaters looked at each other, and then...

"AAARRRRRGGGHHH!!"

----

Hmm, I don't think that chapter was very good, myself, but hey, you win some, you lose some!

Reddy.


	34. The Death Eaters on Bonfire Night

This chapter is about the Death Eaters on Guy Fawkes night/Bonfire night.

For those of you who don't know, Guy Fawkes night is a tradition that dates back to 1605, when King James was on the British throne. He was a protestant Christian, and a group of catholic Christians decided to rent one of the rooms under the houses of Parliament, fill it with gunpowder, and blow up King James and whoever else may be present when Parliament met.

Needless to say that their plan did not go well. A letter was recieved by one of James's courtiers, warning him not to go to Parliament, the give away line being: "Retire yourself into the country... they shall receive a terrible blow this Parliament, and yet they shall not see who hurts them."

The King was naturally suspicious about the meaning of this letter, and ordered guards to search underneath the houses of Parliament.

They found a large pile of gunpowder barrels right underneath the room where Parliament met, and waited until the last moment to catch the culprit.

The poor guy chosen to set light to the gunpowder was called Guy Fawkes, contrary to popular belief, he wasn't the leader of the gang. He was, for want of a better comparison, the 'Wormtail' of the group. The 'Voldemort' of the pack was a chap called Robert Catesby.

The guards caught Guy as he was about to set light to the gunpowder, and arrested him.

He was tortured to tell the king's men who else was involved in the plot, but boldly refused. The other conspirators were tortured, and eventually were hung, drawn and quartered, a rather nasty form of death, I won't go into details.

King James decided to make a big thing of his victory, and made November the 5th a time when people would build a bonfire and put a 'Guy' on it, just to warn any other catholics that they could not defeat the King.

Nowadays, not only do we have a bonfire and Guy burning on it on the night of November the 5th, but we also have firework displays, representing the gunpowder. Right now, in fact, I'm hearing some outside my window. (Not right outside, of course, quite far away.)

I have to say that this time of year is particularly significant in my family, as two of our ancestors were in the gunpowder plot, Robert and Thomas Winter. I do not know whether this is something to be proud of ashamed of, but I think it's pretty cool:)

Anyway, I decided to have the Death Eaters celebrating bonfire night as a majority of them are British. I know that there is some mystery hanging around Dolohov's origins, many believe that he is a graduate of Durmstrang, but no matter.

In my other fic, involving the Troupe, since a majority of them are American, I shall have them celebrating Thanksgiving, something that I probably need to research before writing about. All I know is that it is in November (the 23rd?) and people eat turkey! Any Americans out there who can tell me any more please do!

Anyway, I believe I have ranted long enough. Just a bit of background info so you know what's going on.

----

**The Death Eaters on Bonfire Night**

"Remember, remember the fifth of November,

Gunpowder treason and plot,

I see no reason why gunpowder and treason,

Should ever be forgot.

Remember, remember-"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP RABASTAN!" Voldemort cried, as Rabastan began to chant that blasted poem for the twelfth time running.

"How many times do we have to tell you?" Rodolphus asked his brother. "You do not have to recite, and/or sing an appropriate poem and/or song every time we go out somewhere."

"I have never done anything like that!" Rabastan said indignantly. "When have I _ever _done anything like that?"

"Well," Bellatrix said, sitting in the seat behind and filing her nails. "How about when we went on a camping trip and you started singing 'We're all going on a summer holiday...'"

"Or when we went to the Bath and West show," Dolohov added. "And you were singing: 'I've got a brand new combine 'arvester.'"

"Oh yes," Rabastan blushed.

"Well this time, we are going to get through the journey without any singing or arguing. We are going to watch this firework display, and go home, without anything strange happening at all.

The Death Eaters nodded, and, for once, not another word was said until that had arrived at the display.

They got out of the mini van, and walked into the field full of people. A large bonfire was in one corner, burning up everything wooden, from chairs to old wardrobes.

"Argh!" Wormtail cried. "My lord, someone's burning on there!"

The Death Eaters looked at the bonfire and saw a very human like figure atop the burning pile of rubbish.

"You idiot, Wormtail!" Voldemort said, clipping Wormtail around the ear. "That isn't a real person! It's a Guy!"

"Well I'm sure this 'Guy' person does not appreciate being set alight," Rabastan said.

"No, Rabastan," Rodolphus sighed. "He's not real."

"Oh."

"When are the fireworks starting?" Bellatrix asked.

"Any moment now," Voldemort replied.

As soon as he had said that, the first rocket shot up into the sky, and exploded with a huge 'BANG'. Voldemort smirked and hurried over. Wormtail ran after, hands over his ears. He had never liked fireworks.

the display was nothing short of spectacular. Rockets banging everywhere, screaming fireworks shooting into the sky, very loud crackling ones that made the ground vibrate, and, by the time it was over, everyone was ready for the finale.

"Should be going up any time now!" Voldemot grinned.

_(Fourty five minutes later...)_

"I'm getting sick of this," Voldemort said crossly. "Where are the people in charge?"

He looked around, and saw a man with a torch in one corner, deep in conversation with another man.

Voldemort, flanked by the Death Eaters, marched over. Voldemort tapped the man with the torch on the shoulder.

"When is the finale starting?" Voldemort asked him. "It is half an hour late."

"Listen, sorry mate," the man said. "We're 'aving a problem with the matches. You see, Steve here went to get some cider, and..."

Wormtail, sensing that this was going to turn into a rather boring conversation, looked around at the floor. Several dozen fireworks were standing in the ground, all burnt out and used.

He walked over to the biggest one and inspected it. It looked magnificent. Probably the one for the finale.

Wormtail sniffed, and tried to walk away, but, to his horror, realised that he had got his shoelace (goodness knows how) around the stick that held the rocket in place. His eyes turned wide in horror.

"...So you see," the man with the torch said. "We'd like to get on wiv the show as much as you would, but we ain't got any matches to light the last one with!"

"Oh, _that's _the problem!" Voldemort said. "Well," he turned to Wormtail, not seeming to realise that the poor guy was attatched to this enormous rocket. "Wormtail has a couple of matches! Light it up, Wormtail!"

"Wormtail?" The man with the torch asked, questioningly.

"Yes," Voldemort said. "Blame his parents. They wanted a rat. Got a kid instead. Anyway..."

He clicked his fingers behind his back, and the fuse on the final rocket burst into life.

"No, my lord!" Wormtail yelled, desperately tugging at his shoelace.

"I know," Voldemort grinned at him. "Exciting, isn't it?"

The Death Eaters (apart from Wormtail, of course), took a step back to watch the rocket go up. It did, and it was magnificant. The colours lit up the sky in hues of green, blue, gold and red, dancing all over the skies, so when they faded, you could almost mistake the sparkling remains still hanging in the sky for colourful stars.

Voldemort looked pensively at something soaring through the sky.

"You know," he said to Rodolphus. "You could almost mistake that firework for Wormtail."

Rodolphus squinted up.

"Er, that _is _Wormtail, my Lord," he relpied.

"What on earth is he doing up there?" Voldemort said crossly, following the descent of Wormtail as he landed rather luckily on the bouncy castle. Several little children shrieked as he landed.

"Ouch." Was all he could muster.

----

I shall tell you now that Wormtail was very lucky as he got off unscathed except for very bruised and with rather singed shoelaces.

I am fully aware that that would never happen in real life, that Wormtail's shoelace would not be a sufficient obstacle to send a man shooting up into the air, and their probably isn't even a firework that could lift a human into the air. But hey.

I would also like to say that I do not mean to offend anyone who has been, or knows anyone who has been involved in an accident with fireworks. I'm truly sorry if I have.

And I would also like to apologise for the rather long winded bit of history preceeding the chapter. It must have been rather boring for those of you who know the story, but for those of you who don't, I just thought it would be a good bit of background knowledge. I dunno, most of you probably didn't read it at all:)

Anywho, au revoir for now, and if you are going to a display tonight, or just having your own fireworks, do not try that at home!

Peace out,

Reddy.


	35. The twins turn detective

Hello, and happy advent everyone! It has been over a month since I updated, so I think it's high time I did so.

----

**The twins turn detective**

Fred and George peered around the corner.

"No one's there," George whispered. "Go!"

The two of them sprinted around the corner and dived behind a suit of armour.

It was the perfect plan. The twins had thought it down to the last detail. They were still determined to find out who the mysterious person was who kept pulling off all of these amazing practical jokes, so had said a trap, that only someone who was as passionate about jokes as they were would fall for.

They had let off a dungbomb in one of the corridors farthest away from Filch's office. In his fury, Filch had not bothered to lock his door, and inside his office was a selection of confiscated objects that the caretaker had collected over the course of the years. The twins knew that it was that time of year when Filch counted up all of the objects and added them to his files. It would be and opportunity impossible for anyone even remotely interested in causing havoc to avoid. When the mystery person appeared, the twins would be ready.

Suddenly, they heard a noise. It was footsteps. They ducked further behind the suit of armour and held their breath.

To their surprise, the person did not stop at Filch's office, but walked straight past it and their hiding place without a second glance. The identity of the person explained it.

"Professor Sprout," George said. "At least we can rule her off the list."

"She was ruled off from the start," Fred commented. "Lest you forget the toad incident? I don't know much about Sprout, but I do know that she'd have to be completely batty to put a toad in her own cereal."

"You never know," George shrugged.

"Shh," Fred said. "Someone's coming!"

They peered down the corridor, in the direction of the footsteps. But nobody was there.

The footsteps drew closer. The twins were puzzled. They looked both ways, but couldn't see anyone.

To say that they were rather baffled would be an understatement. But if they were confused now, it was nothing compared to how confused they were a few seconds later when a dungbomb came floating out of Filch's office completely of its own accord, soon to be followed by a fanged frisbee, a filibuster firework and most of the rest of the confiscated objects of Filch's office.

"What's going on?" George asked, regardless of whether anyone could hear him. As if attracted to sound, the dungbomb came floating towards their hiding place.

The twins, with a yell, leapt out from behind the suit of armour. To their further horror, the helmet from the suit of armour voluntarily detatched itself from the rest of its outfit and floated around in the air.

The terrified twins gave a cry of fear and tore off down the corridor, to tell their strange story to the first person they saw.

The helmet, which had bobbed along behind them until the corner, stopped, and walked back the other way, apparantly in fits of sniggers.

The sniggers were sternly repressed, however, when Filch turned the corner and spotted it too.

"AAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!" He yelled. "Professor Dumbledore! Professor Dumbledore! The suit of armour is alive!"

However the next person to turn the corner, wondering what on earth the noise was about was not Dumbledore, but Snape.

Snape swept into sight, irritated by the disturbance, took one look at the floating helmet and raised an eyebrow at it.

"I think you better go, Filch," he said. "I'll sort this out."

Filch, without another word, and muttering uncomprehendably to himself, dashed off down the corridor.

When he was gone, Snape turned around and faced the floating helmet with a reprimanding look.

"Take off the helmet," he said.

"Oh, do I have to?" Came a muffled voice from somewhere inside it.

"Yes," Snape said crossly. "Now."

With a sigh, the helmet floated over to the suit of armour and placed itself back on.

"What do you think you are doing, Crouch?" Snape hissed.

"How did you know it was me anyway?" Asked the all too familiar voice of Barty from under the invisibility cloak.

"I don't know many other people other than those meddlesome Weasleys who would waltz around with an invisibility cloak and a helmet on.

"I have got this on for a reason," Barty said. "The cloak, that is."

"What?" Snape asked.

"I'm, well..." Barty hesitated. "I'm out of polyjuice potion."

"You mean your not Moody at the moment?" Snape asked.

"No," Barty replied. "I'm me. But I have the second year in half an hour, so I'd appreciate some more polyjuice, if that's all right."

"Yes, yes, fine," Snape said. "I'll get you some. You really are the absolute worst person for this job. _How _on earth did you get it?"

Barty shrugged.

"Is this all a big joke to you?" Snape snapped.

"Pretty much," Barty replied.

Snape shot him a scathing look. Barty suppressed his sniggers as the potions master swept off in what he probably thought was a menacing way.

Barty was left on his own.

"Another half hour left," he said thoughtfully to himself. "But what to do to kill time?"

He picked up the helmet and put it on.

"Let's go and scare some first years," he said with a smirk, and stalked off.

----

BTW, thank you to everyone who gave me the information about Thanksgiving. If you want to read the chapter I wrote about it, it's up on my SOUE fic. I found all of it really interesting. Thanks guys!

Reddy.


	36. The Death Eaters at Christmas: Part 1

Hello everyone and Merry Christmas!

Not only muggles celebrate Christmas, wizards do too, and the Death Eaters are no exception. So welcome to the first chapter of a multi parter about the Death Eaters' Christmas frolickings!

----

**The Death Eaters at Christmas: Part 1**

"Rodolphus, watch the vase. Lucius, where are the Christmas cookies? Wormtail be careful with that tree! Can someone help him?"

Voldemort was in a rather hassled mood. Not only had his Death Eaters decided to decorate the place without his consent, but they were going about in a very precarious way.

Wormtail was dragging a Christmas tree, (with some difficulty) through the living room door, leaving a trail of pine needles in his wake. Lucius was making a mess with the Christmas cookie mixture, and was wandering about the house, whilst stirring the ingredients in a bowl, looking for raisins. Rodolphus was hanging up paper chains, Dolohov was balanced rather dangerously on a step ladder with some blue tack, and the last Voldemort had heard of Rabastan he had been attaching icicle lights to the roof outside.

_Thud. _

"I'm all right!" Came a voice from outside.

"You'd think he could levitate them up there," Voldemort said crossly to Rodolphus.

Rodolphus shook his head.

"The last time Rabastan tried to levitate something, he turned a passing old lady into a watermelon." He sighed sadly.

Voldemort raised his eyebrows.

"Well can't you levitate the decorations at least?" He asked.

"My lord," Rodolphus smiled. "Where is your festive spirit? Putting up the decorations is good for family bonding. Surely you of all people can appreciate that?" Voldemort thought he saw a slight smirk cross Rodolphus's face, but he passed it off as a sudden trick of the light.

"Well actually," Voldemort said. "I had had a smashing idea for some bonding."

"Oh no," Dolohov groaned from his step ladder. Voldemort shot him an dark look and he fell silent.

"I thought," continued Voldemort. "That we could perform a Death Eater pantomime!"

"A Death Eater pantomime?" Rodolphus repeated uncertainly. "Who would watch it?"

"We could invite the Order around!" Voldemort replied. "All in the spirit of the season, eh?"

"What were you planning on performing?" Rodolphus asked.

"I haven't decided yet," Voldemort said thoughtfully. "How about _A Christmas Carol_? Or, _Peter Pan_?"

"Both inspiring ideas," Rodolphus nodded. "Maybe you should call a meeting after we've put up the decorations."

"No, Rodolphus, I've got a better idea," Voldemort said.

"What?"

"I'll call a meeting after you've put up the decorations!"

"You're a real inspiration, sir," Rodolphus said flatly.

"What is that, Rodolphus?" Voldemort asked, looking warily at the sprig of mistletoe above the living room door.

"It's mistletoe, my lord," Rodolphus replied.

"Why is it above my door?"

"I thought it might be a nice little touch."

"It's not very menacing," Voldemort commented.

"Mistletoe berries are poisonous," Rodolphus told him.

"Oh."

There was a pause.

"Well I suppose it can stay there." And the dark lord walked out of the room to gather his minions for the meeting.

As soon as Rodolphus saw Bellatrix coming, he leapt down from his ladder and stood under the door frame.

"What are you doing?" She asked him.

"Does a man need a reason to casually stand under a door frame?" Rodolphus asked. He looked upwards meaningfully. She followed his gaze.

"You put mistletoe above the door?" She asked him.

He nodded.

"You have got to be kidding me. Call yourself evil and you stick soppy plants on the ceiling." And she walked past him into the room.

Rodolphus sighed, and glared at Dolohov who was trying not to snigger.

The Death Eaters gradually conjugated in the living room, the last to arrive being Lucius and Wormtail.

"Has anyone actually seen them?" Voldemort asked.

"No," came the general reply.

But Voldemort did not have to ponder for much longer, as something short came whizzing into the room, pursued by Lucius.

Wormtail froze in the middle of the room and turned to Voldemort. The others looked at him in mild surprise. Wormtail's body was fairly clean, almost spotless, in fact, apart from a few pine needles. But his head and face certainly weren't. It was with great amusement as the Death Eaters regarded Wormtail, head covered in Christmas cookie mixture, dodge behind Voldemort as Lucius lunged at him.

"Wormtail, get that horrible stuff away from me," Voldemort snapped, stepping away briskly and wrinkling his nose. "What happened?"

"Wormtail succeeded in tipping my mixture over his head," Lucius said, red with anger.

"I didn't mean to!" Wormtail squeaked. "I'm sorry! Just don't hurt me!"

"I will have to make that all over again!" Lucius said in fury. "Do you have any idea how much care and effort went into the making of that?"

His lip trembled, and he started to sob. "It never even became cookies!"

"Pull yourself together," muttered Dolohov. "You didn't even find the raisins."

Lucius gave him a look of hatred, but was prevented from attacking him with the ring of the doorbell.

The Death Eaters did not get many visitors. The postman had already been that day, and the only other people that ever came around were Mrs Mallory and her evil son Stewart. Therefore, the ring of the doorbell never bode well for the Death Eaters.

So it was with a nervous step that Voldemort, flanked by his minions, walked to the door.

the glass in the door was glazed and patterned, so the only thing that the small group could see of the visitors outside was that there were two of them, one was slightly taller than the other, and they had rather strange hats on.

Voldemort's stomach gave a horrible churn. He only knew two people who wore hats of that shape. So it was with a horrible feeling that he opened the door and his fears were recognised, in the form of his two Great Aunts, Constance and Florence.

The Death Eaters behind him gave small gasps of horror, and some had to stop themselves from crying out in terror. They remembered all too well the last time these two apparently innocent old ladies had visited.

There was a horrible pause.

"Aunties!" Voldemort said, forcing a grin. "How... unexpected."

"We thought that we'd pay our great nephew a visit," Constance said. "After all, it is Christmas. We'll be staying until Boxing Day."

"Excellent!" Voldemort said, seriously reprimanding himself as he felt tears come to his eyes.

"Something is missing, here," Florence said, as the two of them stepped over the threshold and regarded the group of terrified looking Death Eaters.

"Oh yes, Barty and Snape aren't here," Voldemort said.

"Good, good," Constance replied. "We will go to our rooms now."

"Yes, you do that," Voldemort said. "Up the stairs and on the-" but they had gone.

As soon as he was sure the two old ladies had gone, Voldemort, face whiter than normal, ushered the Death Eaters into the living room and closed the door.

Once he had done so, Rabastan burst into tears.

"H-how?" Dolohov asked croakily. "How?!"

"I don't know!" Voldemort said desperately. "I didn't get a letter or a warning or anything!"

"They can't just waltz in here whenever they feel like it!" Rodolphus said.

"Do you want to go and tell them that?" Voldemort asked. Rodolphus looked at his shoes. "I thought not."

"Well," Lucius sighed. "Christmas is officially ruined."

"At least it can't get any worse," Rodolphus sighed, comforting his sobbing brother.

Alas, poor Rodolphus, how wrong he was. For at that moment, the doorbell rang again, and Voldemort went to answer it, being optimistic about the fact that no visitor, not even Stewart Mallory could be worse than his Great Aunts.

He pulled open the door with a bit more confidence than before, and, before he could stop himself, slammed it shut again after seeing who was on the other side.

Voldemort leant against the door, breathing heavily. No, it couldn't be. The Great Aunts were bad enough, but his second cousin Albert _as well_?

There was a rap on the patterned glass behind Voldemort's shaking back.

"Tommy Boy?" Came a muffled voice from the other side. "Aren't you going to let me in old chap?"

Voldemort took a few calming seconds, a deep breath, and opened the door.

"Albert!" He cried. "My favourite second cousin!"

"Your _only _second cousin," Albert grinned with nudge. "I have to say that it's corking to see you!"

"Yes, it's been a long time," Voldemort smiled.

"Too long," Albert agreed. "How've you been?"

"Oh, you know," Voldemort said, not trusting his face not to crack with the large, fake grin that had spread across a face not accustomed to smiling.

"You're not still trying to take over the world, are you?"

"No! Of course not," Voldemort said quickly. "That was just... a phase. No, now I'm... the manager of... a crockery company..." He mentally kicked himself for the ridiculous choice of occupation.

"Really?" Albert asked. "How you've moved on, eh? Well, congratulations. I managed to win back my estate, thank goodness."

"Oh good," Voldemort said. "So, why aren't you there?"

"Good lord, Tommy," Albert said. "You think I'd leave my favourite second cousin alone at Christmas? No, I've come to stay for a couple of weeks. Keep you company, eh what?"

"Thank you for the thought, Albert," Voldemort said. "But that's really not necessary. You see the workers from my crockery factory live with me now. We're quite the family."

"Oh smashing!" Albert said, bouncing past the mortified Voldemort. "The more the merrier!"

The Death Eaters looked up in surprise and shock as the tall man in tweed walked into the living room and gave them all a beaming grin.

"Hello!" He said. "You must be the workers! I bet you're selling a bundle this time of year!"

"What?" Dolohov asked, but Voldemort swept in.

"Oh yes," he said hastily. "Crockery sales have shot up, haven't they, workers of the crockery factory of which I am the manager." He winked at them meaningfully.

Rabastan looked confused.

"What's your factory called?" He asked.

Voldemort shot him a knife like look.

"It's called 'Shut up or I'll turn _you _into crockery in co-operated.'" Voldemort replied through gritted teeth, throwing a threatening look at Rabastan.

"You know, I think I've heard of that," said Albert. "Tommy, be a sport and take my suitcases upstairs, would you?"

"Of course!" Voldemort gave him another fake grin, wrenched his suitcases off the floor with a little too much force than was necessary and stomped upstairs.

"I say, Tommy's in a good mood today, isn't he?" Albert said with a grin.

Voldemort stomped across the landing to the spare room. Suddenly, the two GreatAunts walked into view.

"Firstly," Great Aunt Constance said. "Stomping is not good manners," Voldemort tightened the grip on Albert's suitcases. "And secondly, did we hear Albert downstairs?"

"Yes, he's come to stay for Christmas too," Voldemort replied.

The two Great Aunts stiffened, looked at each other with tight lipped expressions, and then back at Voldemort.

"I'm afraid," Florence said darkly. "If that is the case then we will have to leave."

Voldemort's heart soared.

"No, Florence," Constance said. "We must stay.

Voldemort's soaring spirits suddenly plummeted.

"We must retain our dignity," she continued. "And not let that gambling fool spoil our stay. We must endure him for as long as we stay here."

"Yes, we must," agreed her sister. "In that case, we must go back to our room and pack."

The two of them walked off, and, to his horror, they went into Barty's room.

"Aunties!" Voldemort cried, abandoning suitcases and hurrying after them. He walked into Barty's room and saw that Constance was arranging the sheets on Barty's bed, and Florence had unpacked the temporary bed.

"It was an awful mess in here when we first came in," Florence said. "But with a little magic, we tidied it up."

"But this is somebody's room!" Voldemort protested. "What's wrong with the spare room?"

"I'm sure that that will be perfectly fine for Albert," Constance said, the name 'Albert' causing her thin lipped expression to return. "But as two ladies, we need something bigger than that tiny cupboard you call a room. And besides, this room has a much nicer view."

Voldemort sighed. At least Barty wasn't coming back this Christmas.

He dropped Albert's suitcases rather grudgingly on the bed in the spare room, and went back downstairs to find Albert talking to his minions, and, to his surprise, Snape had appeared.

"Hello, my Lord," Snape said.

"Snape!" Voldemort cried. "What are you doing home?"

"Dumbledore insisted that I take a break for Christmas," Snape sighed in reply. "No matter how much I insisted that I would rather stay at Hogwarts and work, he insisted even more that I have a rest. So here I am."

"Well," Voldemort said. "It will be a full house this Christmas."

"Tommy!" Albert said to his second cousin. "They refer to you as 'my lord'? I'm sure you have nothing to do with this?"

Voldemort's mouth twitched. Albert gave him a good natured, knowing grin.

"Oh Tommy boy," he said. "Just because I have a huge estate with over one hundred servants and gamekeepers, and you only have this house and a band of factory workers, doesn't mean you have to be jealous. Been doing a bit of make believe, eh? Pretending that this house is an estate?" He nudged Voldemort with a grin.

Voldemort was saved from strangling his second cousin by the doorbell.

"I'll get that!" He said, perhaps a little too loudly, and bounded towards the door. The Death Eaters followed him, and Voldemort flung open the door, daring it to reveal anyone worse.

"Hello," said Barty Crouch Jr, suitcase in hand, with a smirk around at the Death Eaters. "Did you miss me?"

----

Mwa ha ha! Part two coming soon!

Reddy


	37. The Death Eaters at Christmas: Part 2

I'm really sorry this is so late, freaks!

----

**The Death Eaters at Christmas: Part 2**

"Barty?" The dark lord asked in astonishment. "I thought you were at Hogwarts!"

"That's what you thought," he said, stepping into the house.

No sooner had Barty let go of his suitcases than the two Great Aunts appeared on the stairs.

"Oh dear," said Great Aunt Constance, giving Barty a tight lipped expression. "It's you."

Barty stared at them in horror.

"On second thoughts," he said, picking up his suitcases again. "I think I'll just crash out at Hogwarts for the holidays."

"Oh no you don't," Voldemort hissed. "You're not getting away that easily. We're all going to have a miserable Christmas together. You're going down with this boat like the rest of us."

"Riiiight..." Barty said. "I'll take my things upstairs, then."

"No, wait-" Voldemort said, but Albert had bounced in front of him.

"Aunties!" He said, leaping up the stairs. They glared at him with identical tight lipped expressions of disapproval.

"Albert," Florence said stonily. "That is not how a gentleman introduces himself to ladies."

"Sorry Aunties," Albert said good naturedly. "Just a little over excited, it being Christmas and all." He gave great Aunt Constance a good natured nudge. She gave him such a cold, knife like look that even Albert's smile faltered, and he returned to the bottom of the stairs.

"AARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!"

Voldemort sighed as he heard Barty's yell from upstairs. He had obviously found that his room was inhabited.

The Death Eaters rushed upstairs, and found Barty standing in the doorway of his room, suitcases dropped on the floor, staring in horror.

"My-my room!" He stammered.

"I can explain," Voldemort said.

"It's-tidy!"

"I don't know how you can live in such a bombsite," Great Aunt Constance said, as she and Florence pushed past him and stood in the room defiantly.

Barty looked as though he was ready to attack the two old ladies, so Dolohov steered him away.

"You can go in the spare room," he said consolingly.

"Sorry old bean," Albert said from behind. "I've got that one."

"Well then where can I sleep?" Barty asked incredulously.

"I suppose you'll have to go on the sofa," Wormtail said with a smirk.

Barty glared at him. Dolohov looked at Rodolphus meaningfully, and the two of them led Barty downstairs.

"They're not staying there," Barty said promptly, the minute he had reached the living room. "I promise you. I'll get my room back by Christmas day if it's the last thing I do."

"Don't do anything reckless," Dolohov said. "Just put up with them for a few days, they'll be gone soon enough."

"They better be," Barty said darkly.

-

Barty tiptoed across the landing later that evening and ducked into his empty room. Glaring at how tidy Constance and Florence had made the place, he only just resisted from pushing a pile of linen on the floor.

He walked over to his drawers and rifled through them, pulling out practically everything that might be useful for getting the Great Aunts out of his room.

Suddenly, there were footsteps and voices. He hurriedly closed the drawer and rolled under his bed as Great Aunts Constance and Florence came in.

"What an awful boy that Albert is," he heard Great Aunt Florence say.

"Dreadful," concurred her sister. "I'm just ashamed that we have to share the same house as him over Christmas."

Barty looked towards the door as the Great Aunts sat on the other side of the bed. Perhaps, if he was really careful...

"Of course come Boxing Day morning I'll be off right away," Constance said.

"As shall I," Florence agreed. Neither of them seemed to have noticed Barty creeping out of the door and out of sight.

With a triumphant smirk, Barty dashed downstairs.

-

"So, Tommy old bean," Albert said the next day; the day before Christmas Eve. He had been bouncing around after Voldemort all morning, and the latter was becoming rather irritated.

"How about you show me one of the pieces of china you've whipped up, eh?"

"What?" Voldemort asked, puzzled for a second, then he remembered. "Oh yes, of course. Erm, I would, but all of my crockery is at the er... warehouse."

"Shame," said Albert. "Well how about we have a nice fair game of poker?"

"No."

"Go Fish?"

"No."

"Snap?"

"No."

"Not even Happy Families?" Albert asked, disappointment etched on his face.

"Not even that," Voldemort confirmed. "I am far too busy to be playing card games with you. Why don't you ask one of the others?"

"But _you're _my second cousin!" Albert insisted.

"Well," Voldemort sighed, exasperated. "Maybe later."

Albert's face split into a huge grin.

"I can hardly wait, old chap," he said, giving Voldemort a good natured slap on the back before bouncing off again.

Voldemort waited until he was gone, and then let out a small cry of pain and clutched his back. He collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table beside Lucius who was piping icing around the newly made Christmas cookies.

"Albert giving you grief?" He asked sympathetically.

"_Why_," Voldemort hissed. "Am I cursed with such irritating relatives?"

"You're not the only one," Lucius said sagely. "Look what Rodolphus has for a brother."

As if on cue, Rabastan came walking into the kitchen. He stopped and looked at them.

"Are you all right, Rabastan?" Voldemort asked.

"I lost my favourite socks," he said.

"When did you see them last?"

"The Slytherin common room in second year."

"Ah," Voldemort said. "I'm afraid there's very little we can do about that."

"Oh," Rabastan said. "Never mind, then." And he walked out of the room, muttering something about lemons.

"See what I mean?" Lucius commented. "Completely batty."

At that moment, Rodolphus rushed in, with something very strange on his head.

"What on earth is that, Lestrange?" Voldemort asked.

"Mistletoe," Rodolphus replied.

Lord Voldemort and Lucius glanced at his head gear. He seemed to be wearing a plastic hard hat with string pulled around it tightly, holding a large sprig of mistletoe into place.

"Have you seen the spellotape?" He asked.

Lucius passed it to him wordlessly.

"Thanks." Rodolphus proceeded to bite a strip off, and press it across the end of the string. He put the spellotape back on the table and dashed out of the room.

"Well," Lucius said. "At least now we know why they're called Le_strange_'s."

-

Snape walked past the living room, and gave the '_No Entry; genius at work_' sign a disdainful glance.

Having nothing better to do, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. He stared.

What had previously been the living room had now been transformed into what could only be described as an absolute mess.

Scrunched up balls of paper had been scattered carelessly over the floor, a cauldron was bubbling over the fire, a large amount of potion bottles had been placed at precarious angles on the mantelpiece and shelves. One of the sofas had been turned into a makeshift bed, rather untidy it was too, and the creator of this mess was sitting at the desk on the other side of the room, scribbling madly on a piece of paper.

Barty turned around as Snape came in.

"Did you not read the sign?" He snapped. "GENIUS at work."

"Where's the genius?" Snape couldn't help but sneer at him.

"Oh ha ha," Barty said sarcastically. "Go away. I am incredibly busy."

"The Dark Lord is going to kill you when he sees this," Snape pointed out.

"I'll just blame it on Wormtail," Barty shrugged.

"What are you doing anyway?" Snape asked.

"Plotting," Barty replied. "Now go away."

Snape sighed and walked out.

-

"How do I look?" Rodolphus asked Dolohov.

"Great," Dolohov assured him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Teeth?"

"Fine."

"Hair?"

"You're wearing a hat," Dolohov pointed out flatly.

"Ah, yes," Rodolphus said. "Here she comes! Get lost!"

He shoved Dolohov into a broom cupboard, slammed the door and tried to look casual as Bellatrix walked into view.

"Hello," he said, flashing her a smile.

"What _are _you wearing?" She asked sceptically.

"That would be a hat," Rodolphus said. "Admittedly, with some mistletoe on it, but, all in the festive spirit, eh?"

"If you say so," Bellatrix replied, and walked off.

Rodolphus waited until she had turned the corner, then took his hat off and dropped it on the floor resignedly with a sigh, before walking off rather dejectedly.

All was silent, then there came a voice from the cupboard.

"Er, hello?"

-

Barty crept upstairs as quietly as he could. The two Great Aunts were currently downstairs giving the others grief. It was the perfect opportunity to give his plan a crack.

He stepped into their room, bucket and nasty smelling slimy substance in hand, and got to work putting it above the door.

For a seasoned practical joker such as Barty, placing a bucket over a door was a rather clichéd trick, but it was still effective, therefore he was filled with a fair amount of confidence that the having a large quantity of smelly, green, not to mention staining slime poured over their heads would push the old ladies over the edge and make them insisted on leaving the house that instant.

As soon as he had finished, he snuck out of the door and hid himself behind a nearby chest of drawers to watch.

The bucket over the door trick is a joke which has gone back for a heck of a long time, being used by amateurs and professionals alike. 99 of the time it is guaranteed for a good laugh, if want anybody to walk through that particular door. However if you are preying on just one, or in Barty's case, two victims, there is one thing that could go wrong.

So it was that Barty watched as someone approached the door, and he leapt out from behind his hiding place as he realised who it was, trying to warn them, but it was too late. The door was pushed open, and the contents of the bucket came cascading down with wonderful accuracy right onto the head of Lord Voldemort.

"BARTY!" Voldemort yelled. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

"My Lord!" Barty said. "I apologise!"

"Are you trying to get rid of my Great Aunts?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes. I mean no. Erm... maybe..." Barty said sheepishly.

"Well if that's the case," Voldemort said. "I have just ONE thing to say to you!" Barty flinched, waiting for the punishment. "Good luck," Voldemort finished. "And you better have them out of here before Christmas day, or you'll be cleaning up the kitchen for a week!"

Barty stared as Voldemort, dripping slime, stomped away. What had at first been an attempt to reclaim his room was now a full blown mission assigned to him by Voldemort.

Feeling rather pleased with himself, Barty reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a small bottle filled with a grey liquid.

"I think it's time for the ultimate extermination weapon," he said to himself with a wicked grin.

-

It was Christmas Eve the next morning. The houses were sleeping quietly as the morning light bathed them in a low light. The sky was clear, the grass was glittering with frost, and all was quiet.

BOOM!

The Death Eater's house shook from the dull explosion which had erupted form the living room.

Most of the Death Eaters were making their breakfast, however the ones who were still in bed were now very much awake.

Barty stumbled into the kitchen, hair slightly blown up from his face, which was covered in smoke.

He coughed.

"Where's the spellotape?" He asked. Lucius handed it to him as though nothing was amiss.

"Thanks," Barty said, rushed out and slammed the living room door behind him.

"How's Christmas Eve lunch coming?" Dolohov asked, having been freed from his cupboard the previous evening. Lucius had been up since dawn cooking Christmas Eve lunch.

"Fine," Lucius replied.

"Do you need any help?"

"No!"

"OK," Dolohov said, looking rather frightened.

Voldemort walked into the kitchen, dark shadows around his eyes, a grim expression on his face. He had been playing 'Go Fish' with Albert all night long, and now looked as though he was ready to kill someone.

Albert, meanwhile, bounced in behind him, chattering incessantly, brandishing a pack of cards, not seeming at all affected by his loss of sleep.

"Oh, come on old boy," he said. "One more game."

"I have been playing your infernal game all night long," Voldemort said through gritted teeth, trying desperately to keep his self control. "I think we should give it a rest."

"All in the Christmas spirit!" Albert insisted.

Voldemort gave the other two a pleading look. Lucius rose to the occasion famously.

"You know who _does _like to play cards?" He asked.

"Oh, who?" Albert asked eagerly.

"Snape," Lucius replied. "He'll be in his room. Go and ask him if he wants to play."

"I think I shall!" Albert said, before shooting out of the room.

Voldemort sat down and banged his head on the table.

"Just one more day," Dolohov pointed out.

"Yes," Voldemort said. "_Christmas _day. If he's this hyper now, imagine what he'll be like after Christmas dinner and lots of mulled wine."

Dolohov winced at the mental picture. His master was right.

-

At midday, everyone sat down at the table for Christmas Eve lunch. Lucius had made a wonderful meal of roast chicken and gravy, along with potatoes, carrots and beans.

The Death Eaters crowded around the table and sat down, along with Albert and the Great Aunts.

"Well," Voldemort said when they were all tucking in. "This is absolutely smashing. May I thank Lucius for preparing this for us."

"The chicken is too dry," Great Aunt Constance said bluntly.

"And the beans are stringy and overcooked," Great Aunt Florence added.

There was silence. The Death Eaters glanced up at Lucius, who had turned a nasty shade of purple.

"Yes, well," Voldemort said. "Anything, ah... nice... you'd like to say about the food?"

"The potatoes are nice," Great Aunt Constance said.

"Well, that's bett-"

"If you like them burnt, that is," she finished.

Lucius stabbed at his chicken savagely, a vein was pulsing in his temple. Voldemort decided to change the subject.

"Could someone go and get the drinks?" He asked.

"I'll get them!" Barty cried at once, jumping up so fast he nearly knocked his plate off the table. He shot into the other room.

"Look, we've been through this before, Rabastan," Rodolphus sighed, as his brother tried to cut his chicken with the wrong side of his knife. "You don't cut like that- you'll never get anywhere. Like _this_." He demonstrated the proper way.

"Honestly," said Great Aunt Constance said to her sister, in what she probably thought was quiet enough for no one else to hear. "A grown man who can't use his cutlery properly? There's a place for people like him. It's called a mental asylum."

Everyone looked up to see how Rabastan would react. However he was happily cutting his chicken, it was his brother's face that could have shattered glass. If looks could kill, then Great Aunt Constance and Florence would be dead and buried.

_If only they could. _Voldemort thought wistfully.

Rodolphus was about to reply scathingly to Constance's comment, when Barty came back in with the drinks.

"Here we are," he said, going around to Great Aunt Constance and Florence first, and giving them two glasses, then putting the tray on the table for the rest of them to get. "Drinks, everyone."

"About time too," Florence said. "Something to make the dry chicken go down."

Barty sat at the table next to Rodolphus and looked across at them with an evil, ominous smirk.

The two of them took their first sip of their drinks, and looked at it in disgust.

"This wine is off, Tom," Great Aunt Constance said. "It has a distinctly bitter flavour."

"Mine too," Florence added indignantly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Albert said jovially. "Mine is as sweet as a midsummer evening."

"I don't remember asking _your _opinion, Albert," Great Aunt Constance said icily.

It was then that everyone stared at her.

As the two great aunts went off on a rant about speaking when you are not spoken to, the others noticed visible changes in their anatomy.

The identical feathered boas that they had decided to wear, seemed to turn to a dull grey and spread its feathers all over their face. Their thin, pinched noses became curved. Their eyes turned orange and as round as dinner plates, and they began to shrink.

Very soon, Lord Voldemort was no longer looking at the stern and severe faces of his two great aunts, but at a pair of owls.

Lord Voldemort's lip twitched, and then he, along with the rest of the Death Eaters and Albert burst out laughing.

The owls ruffled their feathers in shock and disdain, looked at each other with their large eyes and jumped as they saw what they had become. With a few screeches of indignation, they rose from their seats and flapped out of the kitchen window.

"Oh dear," Albert said, once they had calmed down. "I really would love to stay and laugh over this with you all, but I think I should try and get those two to St Mungo's. I'll get their cases and mine right now and be off."

And, with a wave of his wand, the cases came shooting down the stairs.

"Sorry I couldn't stay any longer, thank you so much for putting up with me, and merry Christmas," Albert said, as he made his way towards the door. "Oh, and Tommy. If you ever want a game of poker, just drop by, eh?" He gave Voldemort a jovial slap on the back, nearly knocking his second cousin into his chicken. "Tootlepip everyone!" He said, before bouncing out of the door.

There was silence after the door closed.

Then the Death Eaters let out a simultaneous cheer, and there was a great deal of glass clinking and congratulating Barty. It was probably the only time that every single one of them was actually grateful towards him, and they all realised that perhaps that annoying, irritating practical joker that most of them had convinced themselves they would be better off without, wasn't so bad after all.

-

Barty woke the next morning and gave a satisfied sigh as he looked around his room.

He had cleared out of the living room, which was now back to its normal, fairly tidy self, Christmas tree and all, and had moved back into his old room, which he had taken a special half hour to get nice and messy again. Messy, that was, apart from the slime spillage which he had cleared up using his specially concocted cleaning substance designed for clearing up such things. The great aunts and Albert had gone, and everything had returned to its relatively peaceful self.

He rolled over in bed, and suddenly his eyes shot open. It was Christmas day!

With one leap, he was out of bed. Hastily dressing into his robes, Barty ran along the corridor, banging on everyone's door to wake them up.

Soon, the sleepy heads of the Death Eaters appeared at the doors.

"Everyone up!" Barty said. "It's Christmas day!"

-

The Death Eaters chattered happily as they ate their breakfast.

"Well my minions," Voldemort said when they had finished. "I have to say that it has been a rather good year."

There was a murmur of agreement. Voldemort continued.

"And may I make a toast for everything that we have done this year, and may we strive to make next year even better than the last."

There was silence.

"And obliterate Harry Potter," Voldemort added as an afterthought.

A cheer of agreement rose from the table.

"My Lord!" Dolohov said, who had been looking out of the window. "It's snowing!"

The Death Eaters donned their coats, hats and shoes, and piled outside into the garden.

The snow had obviously been falling for some time. It had covered the houses and gardens in a sheet of white, and was still coming down silently.

The Death Eaters stood and watched it fall from the grey sky, the silence unbroken, until-

"Hey Wormtail, CATCH!"

_SPLAT!_

Wormtail shook himself and spun around angrily to glare at Barty who was pelting him with snowballs.

Rabastan dashed off to make a snowman, and Snape stood there watching him in disdain, before one of Barty's snowballs missed Wormtail and collided with the side of his head.

"Right!" Snape said. "Barty Crouch! Come back here right now!"

Barty shot off, cackling, away from an angry snowball wielding Snape.

Dolohov glanced over to the doorway. A sprig of mistletoe was hung above it, and Rodolphus was standing underneath it looking rather dejected, this time neither knowing nor caring that he was standing under mistletoe.

Dolohov turned to Bellatrix and whispered something in her ear. She glanced at him, and then at Rodolphus, and gave a very small smile.

Walking across the snow covered grass to where he was standing.

"Hello," she said, voice a little guilty.

He grunted in reply, looking sullenly around the garden.

She looked up.

"Mistletoe," she observed casually. Rodolphus merely carried on giving the frozen laburnum tree a glare.

Without saying anything, Bellatrix reached up and kissed him on his cheek, before walking off, face slightly pinker.

Rodolphus stared after her, glare entirely evaporated.

With a huge smile, he leapt up and punched the air, with a triumphant cry of,

"YES!"

----

There we go! A belated merry Christmas to you all.

Again, I am really sorry I couldn't get this updated sooner, this would have been better to read at Christmas, but it's my own fault. Sorry!

Anyway, I hope you all liked it, and that you all had a fantastic Christmas and new year:)

Reddy


	38. The Death Eaters discover fanfiction

Hey freakos! Sorry for not updating for ages! I have a rather late Christmas present, in the form of a video based on the Misadventures for you lot!

To see it, just go to my profile, and the link to it is on there!

And yes, it had to happen someday. I know it is incredibly unoriginal of me, but still, this chapter is...

----

**The Death Eaters discover fanfiction**

There were many ways in which wizards were different from muggles. The obvious difference was their magical powers, and how much they were aware of creatures similar in magical ability.

It could be argued that muggles were slightly more resourceful than wizards, as they had suceeded in building many gadgets and items which helped them get along quite nicely without magic.

And it was generally accepted that they were much better at using their hand fashioned items than a wizard would be.

But Lord Voldemort had never been one to succumb to public opinion.

"Stupid computer," Voldemort muttered crossly, as yet another pop up advertising free wallpapers appeared on his screen.

Voldemort had never properly used his computer before, admittedly he had used it to contact his followers, but he always considered himself to be above using such frivolous, _muggle _items, for anything more than work.

However now, as it was a rather disgustingly sunny March afternoon, he had decided to take the plunge, and enter that forbidden domain that muggles so casually called 'The Internet'.

He had spent a while looking with a slightly disdainful air at a strange site called 'mugglenet', being slightly pessimistic at first due to the title. However his opinions of it were slightly altered when he realised that he could change the background so it featured him, looking extremely evil.

Becoming somewhat bored of Mugglenet, Voldemort lazily browsed through the seemingly endless lists of 'websites', until he came to one that seemed slightly more interesting.

He looked at the name of the site with lazy haughtiness. 'Fanfiction', the very name screamed 'muggle'. But even so, Mugglenet had taught Voldemort that even the most muggley of things could turn out to be vaguely endureable, so, as he wasn't entirely sure what the other seven links were on the fanfiction homepage, he clicked on 'book', whilst giving the noisy 'Smiley' advert a glare.

The next page contained a rather large variety of links, and Voldemort was at rather a loss at what to click on.

He scrolled down the screen, and his eyes darkened as he saw the name of his wretched enemy right in the middle.

"Harry Potter," he said angrily through gritted teeth, and clicked on the link rather savagely.

-

The rest of the Death Eaters present had been enjoying a fairly relaxing day at home. Most of them were in their bedrooms, with the exception of Rabastan, who was 'fishing for sharks in the garden pond' as he had informed his brother casually a couple of hours ago.

However the sound that erupted from Lord Voldemort's study was enough to make Rabastan drop his fishing rod, and rush inside along with all of the others.

"AAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Voldemort screamed. What he had seen had caused him to topple rather unceremoniously off his chair, and turn his face even paler than usual, if that was possible.

The Death Eaters rushed in.

"My Lord!" Wormtail said, pushing past this others. "What happened?"

Voldemort resisted his minions attempts to help him up, and instead pointed a trembling finger at the screen.

The Death Eaters looked at it. It seemed to be some sort of story, except it involved Voldemort, and someone else they all knew very well too...

"They... they..." Voldemort shuddered. "They put me with CROUCH!"

Dolohov turned a polite shade of green as he regarded the slash fic.

"Well, there's a mental image I wish I didn't have," he commented drily.

"What does 'straddle' mean?" Rabastan asked, inspecting the screen.

"Okay," Rodolphus said hurriedly. "I think we should get rid of that. Erm, how do you get out of it."

"The... the backwards arrow," Voldemort said faintly, he looked like he was going to be sick.

Rodolphus promptly clicked the backwards arrow, and the Death Eaters breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief as the horror of slash disappeared.

Voldemort slowly returned to his chair, dignity badly bruised.

"How about something else," Rodolphus said. "To get rid of the... erm, I hate to say images..."

Voldemort shot him a silencing glare.

"We shall never speak of that again," he said. "But something else sounds like a much better idea."

He scrolled down the lists of fics, and then clicked on one that caught his eye.

_Five minutes later..._

The Death Eaters nearly collapsed from laughing so hard.

"Snape's Potters _Dad_!" Dolohov panted, clutching his sides. "That's the funniest thing I've heard since we read that Dobby and his socks fic!"

"Now you mention it," Voldemort cackled. "They can both be as sullen as each other!"

"Oh, wait until he hears this!" Rodolphus said. "Ooh, go on humour."

Voldemort obliged, and selected the 'humour' genre.

"Oh, that one looks interesting!" Wormtail squeaked, point at a fic labelled 'The Death Eater Files.'

_5 minutes later. _

"Purple?" Bellatrix said questioningly.

"Avery," Voldemort said thoughtfully. "Now why don't _we _have Avery?"

"We don't have a lot of people," Dolohov pointed out.

"We used to have Rookwood," Rodolphus said. "He vanished."

"We also used to have Crabbe and Goyle," Wormtail said.

"And Karkaroff," Bellatrix said.

"I thought we still had Karkaroff!" Voldemort asked.

"No," Dolohov said. "The last we heard of him was in chapter seven. I think..."

"Everyone's slowly vanishing..." Rabastan said. "It'll be one of us next."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Anyway, back to fishing!" He said cheerily, and bounced off.

The Death Eaters slowly filtered out of the room.

Voldemort turned back to the computer. His eyes grew wide as he spotted something on one of the fics.

"AAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!" He yelled. "THEY PUT ME WITH POTTER!!!!"

The Death Eaters came running.

----

(Cackles.) BTW, I'm sorry if any of you support Barty/Voldemort, Harry/Voldemort, or like 'Snape is Harry's Dad' fics. I just picked out the ones that I think would scare our good old Death Eaters the most. ;)

IMPORTANT!!!!!!! PLEASE READ:

IF ANYONE MISSED MY THING AT THE TOP, THIS IS A VIDEO I PUT TOGETHER ABOUT THIS FIC. The link is in my profile, it's pretty hard to miss!!!

I had to use some clips from Doctor Who for Barty, but just pretend it is him. (I mean it is, after all.)

Anywho, happy Easter you nutty lot.

Please review! I'll give you Easter cookies!


	39. The Death Eaters on St Patrick's Day

Hello assorted freaks! Because of my rather idle nature, I have not updated any chapters for a while, and in the process I missed several rather important days. These included New Years Day, Valentines Day and St Patrick's Day.

I decided to write about New Years Day and Valentines Day next year. (Yes, I assure you I WILL still be writing next year), however one of you reviewed and told me about one of the customs on St Patrick's day, and the idea was so brilliant, so genius that I couldn't wait until next year to write about it. So I've been working my little socks off researching, and yes, there is a rather hefty bit of information and history before the actual chapter, just to help everyone understand a bit more. I didn't know anything about St Patrick's Day until researching about it. It's really interesting.

St Patrick is the patron saint of Ireland, and was born in Roman Britain. His original name was Maewyn, and was a slave for six years (presumably to the Romans?) before escaping to Gaul (modern day France), and studying Christianity in a monastery for twelve years.

During that time he changed his name to 'Patrick,' as well as realising that what he truly wanted to do was convert pagans to Christians.

He travelled to Scotland, and began trying to convert people, and his success at converting upset many Celtic Druids.

He was arrested many times, but every time he managed to escape!

He then went to Ireland for thirty years where he set up many monasteries, churches and schools which would help him convert more people to Christianity. He died on March 17th AD 461, which has been known as St Patrick's Day ever since.

Irish folklore around St Patrick's Day include the belief that Patrick raised people from the dead, and gave a sermon on a hilltop, driving all of the snakes away from Ireland. Because experts have pointed out that no snakes were ever native to Ireland, lots of people believe that the snakes in the story represent paganism.

It is also believed that Patrick used the Shamrock, (a clover like plant) to explain how the Holy Trinity (the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit) co-exist as different parts of the same entity.

St Patrick's day is celebrated around the world, and I was really surprised to find out just how many countries celebrated it, not just Ireland, other countries include America, Australia, all of Great Britain, Canada, Germany, Denmark, Moscow, Montserrat and Uruguay.

Traditions of the day include wearing at least one item of green clothing, wearing a shamrock, eating and drinking Irish associated food, such as Irish Soya bread, lager dyed green, green bagels, and various types of beer, and pinching people if they are not wearing green.

I hope I haven't bored anyone to death, sorry if I have! I just thought it might be a bit interesting to hear about some traditions and stuff.

Anywho, I know this is a tad late, but it is my own fault!

This chapter is for Tarquin the Proud, who came up with the ingenious idea for a St Patrick's Day chapter. Thanks, dude!

----

**The Death Eaters on St Patrick's Day**

"My Lord, why on earth do we have to go to this celebration?" Rodolphus asked in exasperation, after hearing his master's latest announcement that they would be going to the St Patrick's Day celebrations in the Town.

"Because it is a perfect chance for family bonding," Voldemort replied, causing his minions to groan at his usual excuse to take them anywhere.

"But none of us are Irish!" Dolohov protested. "Are we?"

The Death Eaters looked at each other. Rabastan sniffed at his arm.

"No, I don't smell Irish," he said.

"You can't _smell _Irish, Rabastan," Rodolphus said, raising hand wearily to his forehead.

"Well it doesn't matter if you're not Irish!" Voldemort said. "You don't have to be Irish to celebrate St Patrick's Day! You know the old saying 'Everyone wants to be Irish on St Patrick's Day'."

"What if you don't," Dolohov said sulkily.

"Well you do," Voldemort replied dangerously. "All of you do. You lot had better be the happiest, most Irish people at this celebration, or I'll turn you ALL into Shamrocks."

So it was with this threat preventing any further protests, the Death Eaters piled into their mini van, and set off.

"_O Paddy dear, and did ye hear the news that's goin' round? The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground_!" Rabastan sang merrily.

"How on earth does he know all of these songs?" Bellatrix asked.

"I have no idea," Rodolphus replied.

"That's the spirit, Rabastan!" Voldemort said cheerily. "You lot could learn a lesson from him."

The other four Death Eaters exchanged exasperated and slightly jealous looks as Rabastan launched whole heartedly into the second part of the verse, Voldemort singing along with him.

-

The battered mini van spluttered to a stop a few minutes later, and the Death Eaters piled out in a hurry, before one of them strangled Rabastan, who had been singing relentlessly all the way there.

Voldemort shut the door and looked about him at the street. The first thing that he noticed was that it was very green indeed.

The entire street was decorated with green banners, green lights and greenly bedecked houses, even the people were wearing green.

In fact, everyone was wearing green.

The Death Eaters felt a tad self conscious as they made their way hesitantly into the street, the only ones dressed in anything but a disgustingly shamrock shade of green.

Voldemort, however, did not seem to feel as though he should be intimidated by muggles, however eccentric their outfits may be. He glanced in disdain at a bearded muggle dressed as a leprechaun.

So the Dark Lord led his minions down the street, as they went along, causing people to stop and stare. They would have stared anyway, of course. The Death Eaters were wearing black robes, which, according to muggles, was not something that 'ordinary' people would wear. However to be wearing black robes on _St Patrick's _Day was an entirely different matter.

By the time the Death Eaters had reached the other end of the street, the entire crowd was fixing them with a silent stare.

"What?" Voldemort snapped at them.

The bearded man who was dressed as a leprechaun stepped forwards.

"Why aren't you wearing green?" He asked.

"Why should I?" Voldemort asked haughtily.

"It's St Patrick's Day today," the bearded man replied. "All folks wear green today."

"Well we don't," the Dark Lord replied defiantly.

The bearded man shook his head.

"In that case," he said. "We'll have to pinch you."

Voldemort gave the bearded man his most disgusted look.

"You are not pinching us," he said firmly as the crowd began to advance on them.

"I think they are, my Lord," Dolohov said, as the Death Eaters backed away.

"RUN!" Rodolphus cried as the crowd dashed towards them.

The Death Eaters didn't need telling twice, they turned around and ran.

Skidding around the corner of the street, the Death Eaters practically flew past other green clad muggles, who decided to join in the mob pursuing them.

If it had been a slightly less dire situation, Voldemort would have found his dignity feeling much more wounded at being chased through the streets of the town by muggles dressed in green.

However it _was _a dire situation, a _very _dire situation, and therefore Voldemort felt nothing but utter terror as he and his minions whipped around another corner and ducked into an alleyway.

"What do we _do_?" Dolohov asked as the crowd swept past.

Voldemort tried his hardest now to show how frightened he was, and instead managed to keep his face relatively straight as he replied.

"It is quite obvious," he said. "That these muggles will not listen to reason, and I myself don't particularly want to get pinched to death."

"We should just kill them and run," Bellatrix said.

"We're off duty," Voldemort replied. "It's a public holiday. No killing on holidays! No, we should be more cunning than that, much more cunning," an evil grin spread across Voldemort's face, and his minions faces fell as they realised that he had just had another idea.

-

"You know, I'm not entirely sure these are going to be terribly good disguises, my Lord," Rodolphus said sceptically, glancing disdainfully at the grinning plastic leprechaun masks.

"Have you got any better ideas?" Voldemort snapped, turning his bemasked face to his minion.

"No!" Rodolphus replied, backing away from the grinning mask. "This idea's fine."

The Death Eaters had somehow found their way onto a St Patrick's Day carnival float, which was standing in one corner of the street, waiting to be driven around the town amidst cheering muggles.

In the driver's compartment, the Death Eaters were hunting for suitable disguises to hide themselves from the obsessive muggles.

"Hurry up, Rabastan!" Voldemort hissed to his minion, who was attempting to put the mask on back to front. "Oh, someone show him how to do it. The driver will be back soon."

Rodolphus turned around to help his brother, and in the process his hand knocked the keys which the driver had left in the engine whilst he went to get a green iced bun from one of the stalls. The engine revved into life, and all of the Death Eaters jumped.

"Turn it off you fools!" Voldemort cried.

"I don't know how to drive a lorry!" Rodolphus said, starting to panic.

"Ooh, how about I pull this?" Rabastan suggested, reaching towards the handbrake.

The Death Eaters, as you by now know, are extremely unlucky. 'Extremely' being an understatement. But their luck is not helped by having a fellow minion of darkness with an IQ that matches one of a teaspoon, and it was that wizard who, ignoring the resounding cries of: "Noooo!" from his fellow Death Eaters, pulled up the handbrake.

And the bad luck of the Death Eaters showed itself in its full coloured glory, as the lorry was parked facing down a rather steep hill. And so it was, that the carnival float, adorned with large plastic shamrocks and paintings of cheerful leprechauns, went whizzing down the hill at a rate which broke the speed limits of most European countries.

"STOP THE DAMNED THING!" Voldemort yelled, subconsciously hitting Wormtail violently over the head with a leprechaun bobble head which had fallen off the dashboard into his lap.

"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE!" Dolohov cried desperately.

"WATCH OUT!" Bellatrix yelled, as the float went careering towards a house at a sharp bend in the road.

Dolohov made a manic grab for the steering wheel, and swerved sharply to the left, just catching a green St Patrick's Day banner on the wing mirror, which tore off the house and streamed beside them like a vibrant green flying snake.

The muggles in the streets stopped and stared in wonderment as the carnival float, piloted by several people in leprechaun masks went cannoning through the streets.

One old man looked at the event schedule and turned to his friend.

"This must be Lucky Larry and his Lunatic Leprechauns," he said, reading off the list of events.

The street cheered at this announcement, and clapped the carnival float as it sped uncontrollably through the streets.

Meanwhile, there was disagreement in the driver's compartment.

"I'LL drive!" Dolohov said, who had got the hang of steering but not speed control.

"No, I'LL drive!" Rodolphus added.

"I'LL DRIVE AND NO MORE ARGUMENTS!" Voldemort shouted, climbing over Wormtail to shove Dolohov out of the way and grab the steering wheel.

Voldemort slammed his foot down on the brake, and the carnival float came to a sudden stop, sending the Death Eaters lurching forwards and crashing into each other in a small heap in the driver's compartment.

By this time, the crowd of muggles had gathered in front of the carnival float, clapping and cheering.

Voldemort and his minions climbed shakily out of the driver's compartment, and breathed a sigh of relief as their feet touched the firm and unmoving ground.

However Voldemort was just about ready to jump back into the vehicle of death as he saw the muggle dressed as a leprechaun come forward.

"No pinching!" Voldemort cried. "We're wearing green!" He gestured the masks.

"Oh, I can see that very well," the bearded muggle said. "But we have another rule which is for our own safety, really."

"And what might that be?" Voldemort asked.

"You are sentenced to being pinched on St Patrick's Day, if you are guilty of any of the following," the muggle continued. "Not wearing a green article of clothing or object on your person… and driving without seatbelts."

The crowd grinned manically at them, as the Death Eaters backed against the carnival float.

"Surely we can come to some understanding," Voldemort said shakily to the advancing crowd. "Is there any way we could get out of this?"

The bearded muggle stopped to think for a moment, and then he spoke.

"Actually," he said "Yes there is something, if my memory serves me. You must be able to sing 'The Wearing of the Green'."

The Death Eater's faces fell, apart from one.

Rabastan beamed.

"I can sing it!" He cried, and launched joyfully into the last verse. "_When laws can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow, and when the leaves in summer-time their colour dare not show, then I will change the colour too I wear in my caubeen, but till that day, please God, I'll stick to the Wearin' o' the Green._"

The crowd had joined him somewhere in the second line, and they all finished the song together, cheering loudly and tossing their hats into the air.

The bearded muggle grinned.

"Well, we don't have to pinch _you_," he said to Rabastan. "But as for your companions… where are they?"

The crowd turned, just in time to see Voldemort and the Death Eaters, minus Rabastan, tearing off down the hill, leprechaun masks tossed defiantly on the road behind them.

"AFTER THEM!" The bearded muggle yelled cheerily. The crowd cheered, and raced after the fleeing wizards.

----

Sorry if that chapter was a tad short and rubbish. I haven't written in a while, but I shall try not to leave such a big gap next time. Sorry! XD

Anywho, next chapter coming soon! (I promise!)


	40. The Death Eaters recieve some bad news

Ooh, here we go, this is so fun! I'm writing chapters at the moment that I've been itching to write for a year. And because I've been planning this for so long, and have got a plotline sussed and everything, the humour may dwindle slightly to give way to more… err… well; these may not be as funny as previous chapters. I know most of you like a good ol' bit of humour, and it will still be there. But these next few chapters are just a smidge darker…

----

**The Death Eaters receive some upsetting news**

Lord Voldemort sat down on a crumbled gravestone glumly and put his head in his hands. _Why _did he bring his minions along? Why had he done that, and then been outsmarted for the fifth time by that obnoxious bespectacled Potter brat.

Needless to say Voldemort felt a tad embarrassed as Harry Potter vanished, fairly unharmed, back to Hogwarts to warn everyone of his return.

Voldemort snorted. He had been hanging around for ages, but thanks to his sock and a large menacing looking cauldron… well, basically Harry had witnessed nothing more than Voldemort having good fun torturing him before challenging him to a duel. And he had lost.

Well how damn typical.

"Ah well," he shrugged, pretending not to care. "It was fun while it lasted."

The Death Eaters shuffled uncomfortably in their black robes and hats.

"Rather dingy place, this, isn't it," Lucius observed casually.

There was a general murmur of agreement, and then silence. None of the Death Eaters knew quite what to say.

Then Rabastan spoke.

"My Lord," he said. "Even though you lost to a fourteen year old boy… again-" Rodolphus kicked his brother on the shins.

"What he means to say," Rodolphus said. "Is that Harry Potter might have won this time, but there's always next time, eh?"

Voldemort glowered up at them. He was hardly in the mood to be comforted.

"Potter didn't win," he mumbled. "He's deluding himself."

The Death Eaters looked at each other worriedly.

"Err, sorry to have to tell you, my Lord," Dolohov coughed. "But, Harry Potter won that little battle back there."

"He cheated," Voldemort said sulkily. "He seemed to have some sort of access to the underworld thing going on back there. I mean did you see dead people popping out left right and centre to help _me_? I don't think so!"

The Death Eaters glanced at each other.

"_My _parents didn't come jumping up out of their graves to defend _me _now did they?" Voldemort grumbled. "What kind of parents do they think they are?"

The Death Eaters were just about to point out to their leader that he had actually killed his father and grandparents, and that was hardly an act that would lead to them feeling inclined to defend Voldemort in any way, but thought better of it, as angry blood red sparks flew from Voldemort's wand.

There was yet another uncomfortable silence as the Death Eaters tried to find something to say.

Voldemort looked glumly at a weather beaten and ragged looking owl which had dropped a sealed envelope into his lap, sighed, and broke the seal, taking out the letter.

"Well," Rodolphus said, in a valiant attempt to raise the team's hopes. "Even if Potter did escape and got back to Hogwarts, there's always the back up plan…" he barely noticed as Voldemort stood up slowly and passed the letter to Lucius, whose face turned as white as a sheet. "…which we thought through time and time again, and can't fail. In fact I'd bet my left eye that Barty's captured Potter right now, if not finished him off complete- what's wrong?" He noticed the pale faces of the Death Eaters as each of them read the letter.

Voldemort opened his mouth and spoke.

"It's from Snape," he said, in a quiet voice that was strange for him to use. "Scratch the back up plan. It failed. Barty's been captured."

----

Ooh…


	41. Barty Crouch is in a desperate situation

So, here we are. THE chapter…

----

**Barty Crouch is in a desperate situation**

"I can't!" Severus Snape said for the hundredth time. "I honestly, truly, can't. I wish I could help you, I really do, but I can't. I have to keep my cover."

"Well you could stop poking my cheek with your wand at least," Barty said, somewhat irritably, trying to ignore the sweat on his forehead as he thought about his predicament.

Snape lowered his wand and regarded his captive.

Barty's cover had been rather spectacularly blown, and Snape had been asked to stand guard over him whilst the headmaster sent for… well, whilst the headmaster wasn't there.

"Bartemius Crouch Junior," Snape said slowly. "Thought you were unstoppable."

"So did I," Barty shrugged. "We had some laughs, eh?"

"_You _had some laughs, yes," Snape sniffed. "_We _were usually at the receiving end of them."

Barty smirked despite himself and ran a hand through his hair.

"At least I don't look like a half fossilized dinosaur any more," he commented. "Back to my dashing self."

"You always were irrepressibly vain," Snape snorted in disdain.

-

Fred and George rushed through the hallway, and nearly collided with Harry Potter as he turned the corner, looking rather shocked.

"Harry!" They said together.

"Are you all right?" George asked.

"Fine," Harry said, shaking slightly.

"You don't look it, mate," Fred said. "What happened?"

"M-Moody…" Harry said. "He isn't Moody at all."

"Who is he?"

"Barty Crouch Junior," Harry replied, wincing at the cut on his arm.

"Barty Crouch _Junior_?" George asked. "As in the son of Percy's ex boss?"

Harry only just managed a nod.

"He's been pretending to be our teacher for the entire year?" Fred asked.

Harry nodded again.

"That," George said. "Is the greatest prank of all time."

Sudden, simultaneous revelations are strange things that can occur at any time between yourself and another person, usually a person who you are close to. Once they occur, little, if any words are needed to be exchanged between yourself and the other person to know exactly what they are thinking, and to know that they have reached exactly the same conclusion as you have.

Fred and George had a sudden simultaneous revelation.

They turned to each other, and stared.

"You don't think…" George said.

"I can't be…" Fred breathed.

"But he's the son of-" George began.

"I know!" Fred cried. "But it all makes sense now!"

"What makes sense?" Harry asked irritably. He was aching all over, his scar was hurting something awful, he had had a long day, and the last thing he wanted was the twins talking in code again.

"Moody- I mean Barty Crouch Junior," Fred said. "Was the mystery practical joker!"

"He's a genius!" George proclaimed.

"Genius or not," Harry said. "He's not going to be around for much longer. Dumbledore's sending for a Dementor right now. Crouch is going to get a little kiss."

Fred and George's eyes widened.

"The Dementor's kiss?" Fred asked.

Harry nodded.

"But- but- we can't let them do that!" Fred cried. "He's just like us! A fellow practical joker, a slave to entertainment!"

"A minion of darkness," Harry said grumpily.

"Where is he?" They asked.

"Moody's office," Harry said, too tired to think straight.

Fred and George looked at each other, and dashed off.

-

Barty felt a horribly unfamiliar trickle of sweat make its way down his forehead as Snape closed the door and stepped outside briefly to help Filch deal with a Filibuster Firework that some troublesome student had let off.

"Now now," Barty whispered to himself. "Just remain calm. It's for a good cause. You can do this. Just breathe deeply."

Just as Barty felt his heartbeat beginning to slow down, and just as he felt as though he had calmed himself enough to think straight, he half leapt into the air as there was a huge crash and a parcel came flying through the window, straight onto his lap, sending glass everywhere.

Barty didn't hesitate, he opened the parcel with trembling fingers, and read the note inside. It was written hastily, and in barely legible writing, but Barty's own handwriting was not that neat, and so he was used to it.

_To Barty Crouch Junior (the best practical joker we have ever met)_

_I'm sorry, but we just could not sit around and do nothing whilst you had your soul sucked out of you. Take this and you'd better use it, in the name of everything unlawful and rebellious, use it! _

_Fred and George Weasley, your biggest fans_

_PS. When you get round to it, could we have your autograph? _

Barty was somewhat taken aback at this, but it boosted his ego no end. He picked up the other object in the parcel, and felt himself nearly begin to cry with happiness at the light, soft, silvery robe that those wonderful twins had sent him.

Acting quickly, Barty scrambled out of the chair, wiped his forehead dry, pulled the cloak around him, and hurried out of the room before any Dementors could arrive.

Just as he was scurrying out of the Hogwarts doors, he stopped, and, as an afterthought, reached into his pocket and, smirking, pulled out a Filibuster Firework, before throwing it with a delighted grin above the heads of a group of nearby second years, who rewarded him with a chorus of terrified screams.

Sniggering to himself, Barty slipped out of the doors into the falling night.

-

Cornelius Fudge strode into the room, Dementor in tow, where he had been informed by Albus Dumbledore that a highly dangerous Death Eater was being held captive.

However there was nothing.

Fudge looked around the small room, but there was no Death Eater in sight. He glanced at the Dementor, who, although it was hard to tell, was looking rather cheesed off that there was certainly no soul here to devour at all.

Fudge was constantly desperately trying to keep relations between the Ministry and Dementors strong and close, as he knew himself the danger they would be if they turned to the dark side. So he used every method he could to try and keep that bond as strong and close as was mentioned beforehand. One of these methods was to give Dementors names.

The Minister coughed.

"Terribly sorry Mike," he said to his spectral companion. "May I call you Mike?" The Dementor turned to him, and would probably be giving him a look that would tell Fudge quite plainly what he thought of being referred to as 'Mike', but considering that Dementors have no faces, and considering that even if they did then they would be hidden behind the black folds of their hoods, and also considering that the Minister was hardly prone to picking up the feelings of others terribly well, Fudge merely carried on talking.

"But how about we play a little game, eh?" He continued. "Let's just say that Crouch _was _here, and you _did _suck out his soul, and all's fine and dandy, yes?"

'Mike' said nothing.

Fudge turned away, it would be horribly bad publicity if it was discovered that one of Voldemort's most devoted followers had escaped whilst under the responsibility of the Ministry, and Merlin knows Fudge had had quite enough bad publicity as it was. So, he turned around and walked out of the room, a rather disgruntled 'Mike' gliding behind.

----

Well, there you go! Hope you liked how it turned out, I wouldn't get rid of Barty really! I knew that as much, but I went through several ideas of how he would escape before that one popped into my head at the last minute. Why not have Fred and George save him after all?

Red Gnome


	42. Lord Voldemort holds a memorial service

**Notice to you all: **Anyone who has tried to PM me in the last six months and hasn't got a reply, it isn't because I'm being frightfully rude and ignoring you, it's simply because I haven't received ANY notification emails from fanfiction whatsoever since November last year, that includes PMs and review alerts.

However now I have changed my email address, it's working again, and I should receive PMs now without any trouble.

Sorry if any of you thought I was ignoring you!

Anyway, on with the chapter.

----

**Lord Voldemort holds a memorial service**

_Thump._

A solar powered water balloon catapult was dropped into a hole in the ground.

_Thump._

A couple of fake wands fell in beside it.

_Thump. _

In went a Fanged Frisbee, shortly followed by some dung bombs, a water gun, a clockwork mouse, a rubber spider and a rather bedraggled, stunned owl.

Dolohov tossed the owl in by its feet, before stepping back, grim faced.

The Death Eaters were gathered in the back garden, holding a small memorial service for Barty. The minute the contents of the letter Snape had sent to them had sunk in, they apparated back home at once.

Needless to say they were in shock.

Barty had been captured, and Snape had sent them a letter shortly afterwards to say that the Minister had confirmed that his Dementor companion had given Barty the Dementor's Kiss.

And they all knew what that meant.

So he wasn't exactly, dead, but he wasn't exactly alive either.

Either way, he might as well have been dead, and they were now holding a small service in memory of his soul.

It had been Rodolphus's idea to ceremoniously burn all of Barty's practical joking equipment at the bottom of the garden.

As the last item hit the earth, Voldemort stepped forwards and cleared his throat.

"We are gathered here today," he said. "To remember the soul of a valued companion, loyal Death Eater, and a faithful friend," there was a pause. "Bartemius Crouch Junior was one of the more colourful characters in our group," he continued. "If the house was quiet for too long, he would be certain to do something to liven the day up, like setting the kitchen on fire, or throwing Wormtail off the roof in a sleeping bag stuffed full of pillows to see if he would bounce."

Wormtail winced, and rubbed his head unconsciously.

"I don't think," Voldemort carried on. "That there is a single one among us here today who could say honestly that they won't miss Barty."

Rabastan blew his nose loudly, Rodolphus wiped his eyes, Dolohov was sobbing loudly into Snape's shoulder, and even Bellatrix looked a little upset.

"And as we say goodbye to his soul," Voldemort said, voice shaking. "By the ceremonial burning of his possessions, we shall take a moments silence to remember him, and all of the good times we shared together."

Rodolphus and Dolohov took a burning torch each and walked over to the pile of stuff, solemnly setting it all on fire, and then walking away.

There was a silence, and then something very strange happened.

The Death Eaters were gazing pensively into the flames, when something came walking towards them through the smoke which was now filling the garden.

They stared in amazement and shock as the figure came closer, and they all recognised who it was.

"All right?" Barty said casually, sauntering over to the Death Eaters, who were staring at him, open mouthed and pale faced. He gave them an odd look, before glancing at the fire. "What're you burning then?" He asked. There was silence, no one said a word. "Err… are you lot all right?" Barty asked.

"C-Crouch?" Voldemort said at last.

"Yeeess…" Barty nodded slowly. "What's wrong?"

"But you had your soul sucked out!" Wormtail protested, sounding a little annoyed.

"It's a ghost!" Rabastan cried. "It's Barty's ghost!"

Barty raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"It's not a ghost, Rabastan," Rodolphus said. "The Dementor's Kiss doesn't kill you."

"If I might interrupt…" Snape said, looking at Barty as though he had just started speaking fluent Japanese. "The Minister for Magic _told _us _personally _that Crouch had been well and truly de-souled."

"Did he?" Barty said, looking puzzled. "Well I can't imagine why he said that. I escaped, with an invisibility cloak. Thanks to those Weasley twins."

Snape looked rather taken aback.

"Well it seems that those meddlesome Weasleys are good for something after all." He commented.

"_Good _for something?" Barty said, looking even more surprised. "I thought you lot couldn't care less if I had my soul sucked out or not."

"_Care_?" Dolohov said. "We were devastated a moment ago!"

"Aww," Barty said, flushing crimson as the Death Eaters swarmed around him for a group hug. "Well I didn't much fancy snogging a Dementor myself, to be honest."

After the mass hugging had finished, Barty looked questioningly at the fire.

"So what _are _you burning?" He asked.

There was an awkward silence.

"Well…" Rodolphus said. "We thought you were gone, and so we decided to… burn all your stuff."

"WHAT!" Barty cried. "_All _of it?"

"Err… yeah."

Barty looked about ready to rant on, but then he stopped.

"Does that include the Filibuster Fireworks?" He asked slowly.

"Yes," Rabastan said proudly. "I put them in myself."

"RABASTAN!" The others chorused in furious exasperation.

"You _clot _Rabastan!" Rodolphus glared, hitting his brother upside the head.

Bellatrix was thinking logically.

"Well," she said. "I think we should try and put the fire out, before-"

There was an ominous crackling sound from inside the burning pile, and the Death Eaters stared in horror.

"MINIONS… RUN!!" Lord Voldemort cried.

They didn't need telling twice, the Death Eaters stumbled as fast as they could away from the bonfire, as large brightly coloured fireworks, screeching and exploding noisily, flew around the garden.

----

Yay! I love writing these SO much!

And if you haven't read the little bit before the chapter, please do so now, it's important.

Thank you. XD

Red Gnome


	43. The Death Eaters have a garage sale

So, chapter forty three, eh? Well, the title says it all, and in this chapter, the Death Eaters run into someone they had hoped never to see again…

----

**The Death Eaters have a garage sale**

CRASH!

A chorus of angry shouting woke Lord Voldemort on what would have been an otherwise peaceful morning.

He angrily stuffed a pillow violently over his head and inwardly seethed as the shouting got even louder.

"Leaving it _there _of all places!"

"Well where else do you suggest I put it?"

"In your _room_?! We've all got one, you know!"

"There are five in my room already, and it's not that big you know! If you insist on walking around in those ridiculous shoes then on your own head be it!"

Voldemort gave a snarl of annoyance and got out of bed, pausing in the nick of time to pull a black dressing gown over his spotty purple pyjamas.

"WHAT is going on out here?!" He shouted, swinging open his door and causing the two offending Death Eaters to jump.

Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape were standing on the landing, glaring at each other on either side of a large, black, pewter cauldron.

"What exactly has been going on?" Voldemort asked them.

"Snape left his cauldron out here," Lucius said. "_Right _outside my bedroom door, if you please, and I tripped over it, incidentally breaking the heel off one of my favourite shoes!" He brandished a thin, sharp looking red heel.

Voldemort eyed it warily before turning to Snape.

"Well?" he asked. "Explain yourself!"

"There is simply nowhere in my room to put it," Snape replied smoothly.

"Yes," Lucius agreed, nodding at him. "Because it's got five other cauldrons in it already!"

"Five?" Voldemort asked. "Why, Severus, do you need five cauldrons?"

There was a pause whilst Snape glanced from Lucius to Voldemort, then he opened his mouth to speak.

"In all honesty, my Lord," he replied. "I don't."

"Ha!" Lucius cried triumphantly.

Voldemort silenced him with a look and then turned back to Snape.

"Then why," he asked. "Do you have them in your room?"

Snape gave a half hearted shrug.

"I don't know what else to do with them."

"Well this can't very well stay here," Voldemort said, giving the cauldron a savage kick, and then trying to hide a grimace as a sharp pain shot through his foot, accompanied by a hollow '_clang_' from the cauldron.

"Are you all right, my Lord?" Lucius asked.

"Yes, fine!" Voldemort snapped through gritted teeth. "Tell the others to gather in the living room in five minutes, and anyone who isn't there will be stuffed in this thingand rolled down the stairs, got it?"

-

"There'd better be a good explanation for this, Lucius," Bellatrix snapped as she sat on the sofa next to her husband, Lucius ushering them all into the room. "It's eight in the morning for heaven's sake!"

"The Dark Lord insisted that _everyone _be downstairs right now!" Snape said. "If you don't like it then I suggest you talk to him."

"Is that everyone?" Lucius asked, as Rabastan walked in, wearing a pair of swimming flippers on his feet and sat down next to his brother.

However before he could check, Voldemort strode into the room, having dressed into his trademark black robes, and Lucius skittered over to an armchair.

Voldemort cast a haughty glance around the room, before opening his mouth to speak.

"Where's Barty?" He asked. The Death Eaters looked around, and shrugged. Voldemort's face darkened. "CROUCH!" He yelled.

There was a pause.

"I'M ASLEEP!" Called a voice from upstairs.

"YOU GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW, YOUNG MAN!"

"IT'S WORMTAIL'S FAULT!" Came the reply.

"BARTEMIUS CROUCH JUNIOR!" Voldemort shouted. "GET DOWN HERE NOW OR I'LL CRUCIO YOU INTO NEXT WEEK!"

There came a sigh from upstairs, and a few thumps as Barty came down the stairs in a pair of striped pyjamas and a blue flannel dressing gown, and pushed Wormtail out of an armchair before flopping into it grumpily.

"That's better," Voldemort said, giving Barty a disapproving glance. "Anyway, what I wanted to talk to you all about it the pressing problem of the lack of space in this house, namely the lack of space to put things. This is an evil lair, not a rubbish tip. And I was wondering if any of you had any suggestions as to what could be done?"

"May I suggest just magically shrinking the unwanted items?" Snape said, thinking logically as usual.

"That," Voldemort replied. "Would be far too sensible. Any other suggestions?"

"How about we just throw stuff away?" Bellatrix said.

"Oh yes," Snape said sarcastically. "And then _you_ can be the one to explain to the muggles why their rubbish tip is suddenly full of cauldrons and suchlike."

"Fair point," Bellatrix shrugged.

"How about we just sell it?" Rabastan asked, tugging at a loose bit of cotton on his pyjama top.

"Rabastan, that is…" Voldemort paused. "…Actually not a bad idea."

"I saw an American film on the television," Dolohov piped up. "In which they sold a lot of their unwanted household items outside their own house! They called it a 'garage sale'."

"Perfect!" Lord Voldemort exclaimed. "We shall have a said 'garage sale' today outside of the house! Everyone get things together that you want to get rid of, and meet outside in fifteen minutes."

"Great," Barty said sarcastically. "I'm going back to bed."

"Haven't you got anything you want to get rid of?" Dolohov asked him.

"Nope."

"Ah, good!" Voldemort said. "Because we need someone to make posters about it. You can do that, and then you can go around the town and stick them up. But for Slytherin's sake get dressed first."

"Yes, my Lord," Barty sighed, before trailing out of the room.

Voldemort turned away and picked up a pen as the last of his minions left the room and scribbled something on the back of his hand.

_Note: Look up 'garage'._

-

"No, Rabastan," Rodolphus sighed, putting down his end of the table to gaze wearily at his brother who was holding the opposite end and trying to fit the table lengthways through the front door. "It's hardly going to go through that way, is it? Use your brain."

"His what now?" Snape sneered, sweeping past.

Rodolphus shot Snape a dangerous glare.

Snape smirked and squeezed past Rabastan and his end of the table in order to get out of the door and into the bright August sunlight.

Snape squinted, and would not deny feeling fairly sickened by the sight of such a perfectly beautiful day. In fact, he would have dumped his pile of unwanted robes on the ground and returned swiftly indoors if he hadn't spotted one of his comrades stapling a poster to the telephone pole on the pavement nearby. Ever the critic, Snape swept over in search of something to nit pick.

"What are you doing?" He asked Barty, who had several posters in one hand, and a staple gun in the other.

"I am putting up posters advertising our little sale here," Barty replied.

Snape regarded the posters disdainfully.

"Your handwriting is appalling." He commented.

"Oi!"

-

"I think we should have the book over there," Lucius was saying, standing in front of the table that was finally outside of the house and attempting to arrange the items for sale in a way which would 'encourage sale'.

"I don't quite see the sense in selling this book anyway," Snape commented, giving the large heavy volume a sideways glance. "It's not as if muggles will find it of any particular interest."

"And why is that, Snape?" Voldemort asked, arranging a line of rather ugly porcelain penguins.

"Well it's a magic book, my Lord," Snape replied, trying hard not to sound too patronising.

"Oh, muggles love that sort of thing," Voldemort said. "It's not as if they could do any damage with the information inside. They'll think it's all wonderfully made up, and even if you did get the odd obsessive who might try and use the spells, they are muggles after all, and I can't say that they are prone to having spells work for them."

Snape gave a relenting sigh, and swept indoors.

"Ah, Crouch!" Voldemort grinned, as Barty strolled over. "Finished with the posters, I presume?"

"Yes, my Lord," Barty replied. "There's one on every telephone pole in the town."

"Excellent work," Voldemort said, rubbing his hands together with glee. "The muggles should be flocking in soon enough!"

"Look what I made!" Came a voice from behind them. Voldemort and Barty turned around to see Lucius, proudly holding a tray covered in dainty little cupcakes, topped with pink icing.

"Muggles love cakes," he continued. "And these are the best I've made so far! This'll show Mrs Warrington from next door just who should have won the cupcake contest at the village fête last year." A small frown passed across his face. Barty and Voldemort exchanged a look. "I'll put them down here next to those adorable little penguins," Lucius smiled, placing the tray of cupcakes on the table as if he were setting a baby in a cot.

He then walked back inside, humming to himself.

Barty turned to his master.

"Who's looking after the stall?" He asked.

"Oh," Voldemort looked slightly taken aback. "Someone has to do that?"

"Yes…" Barty said slowly.

"Excellent!" Voldemort exclaimed. "You can do that, then! I'll go inside and help the others gather some more things together. Good luck!"

"But my Lord!" Barty began to protest, but Voldemort had already rushed inside, and Barty was very much alone outside the house, with a table full of useless rubbish to sell to muggles.

He pulled up an old chair which was hidden behind an umbrella stand, sat down on it, leant back and was quite ready to have a late morning doze, until he heard a cough.

He opened his eyes and looked around. No one was there.

Passing it off as his mind playing tricks on him, Barty leant back in his chair again and closed his eyes.

"_Ahem_!"

Barty jumped, and looked around. There was nobody there!

"I'm down here, you idiot!" Came a voice.

Barty froze. He recognised that voice.

Pulse racing in terror, praying that his guess was incorrect, Barty leaned over the piles of bric a brac and unwanted items, peered over the edge of the table, and stared straight into the face of Stewart Mallory.

-

"Lucius, what are you doing?" Voldemort asked. Lucius had grabbed a mixing bowl, and was currently throwing ingredients into it like some kind of blonde whirlwind.

"I'm making cookies, my Lord," Lucius replied breathlessly. "For the garage sale."

"But you already made cupcakes!"

"Well I decided that if I arranged some chocolate chip cookies _around _the cupcakes, it would make it seem more enticing and promote sale."

Voldemort gave him an odd look, and then they both jumped as they heard a terrified yell, and seconds later, Barty came dashing in.

"My- my Lord!" He gasped, leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath. "It's- it's _him_."

"Who?" Voldemort asked, raising a disdainful eyebrow. "What are you talking about, Crouch?"

"It's-" Barty's face was strangely pale. "_Stewart Mallory_."

The bowl that Lucius had been holding fell to the ground with a resounding crash, and as Barty looked into the face of his comrade, he knew that he was not the only one who was quite aware exactly what Stewart Mallory being there meant.

"There must be some mistake," Voldemort stuttered, his face turning even paler. "It can't be!"

"But it is," Barty said. "I saw him with my own eyes. Only reason I got in here safely was because I threw one of those hideous penguins at him and ran for it."

"Here, you need to sit down," Lucius pulled out a chair for Barty. "You've been through quite an ordeal."

"Thank you," Barty said, and, still shaking, lowered himself into the chair.

"Lucius," Voldemort said. "Help me gather the others together. Lock all the doors and close all the windows. Don't let _anyone _go outside. Do I make myself clear?"

Lucius nodded, and the two of them hurried off to gather the Death Eaters into the kitchen.

-

"I can't believe it," Dolohov said.

"I don't believe it," Rodolphus added.

"I _won't _believe it," Bellatrix said stubbornly, folding her arms. "It can't be true. Stewart Mallory? But we haven't seen him for months!"

"And don't complain," Voldemort said darkly.

"Well we're overreacting, obviously," Bellatrix said. "Surely he's gone by now."

But as if Stewart had heard her, there was a knock at the door.

The Death Eaters exchanged nervous glances, and very slowly got up and walked into the hall, keeping close together.

Voldemort bent down, opened the letter box with a trembling hand, and peered out.

Stewart was staring right back at him.

"ARGH!" Voldemort stood up sharply and cracked his head against the doorframe.

"My lord!"

"Are you all right?"

"Is he out there?"

"Shut up, all of you!" Voldemort said, brushing them away. "He's there all right. Now be quiet."

Slowly, and with a hammering heart, Voldemort looked out of the letterbox again.

Stewart was still staring at him, with those large, brown, unblinking eyes. He was holding one of the heavy spell books in his little hands.

"Can I help you, young man?" Voldemort asked.

"I want to have this book," Stewart replied, voice terrifyingly soft.

Voldemort eyed the book through the letterbox.

"What would a six year old boy like yourself want that old thing for?" He asked.

"I'm not six, I was seven in October," Stewart replied, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice that made Voldemort want to run upstairs and hide. "And I find this book very interesting."

"Oh really? And why might that be?"

"The subject of the dark arts has always been a fascination of mine," Stewarts replied.

"But you're only seven."

"Something _wrong _with that, Mr Riddle?"

"No, no, not at all!" Voldemort stammered. "It's just… that's all made up nonsense."

Stewart took a step closer to the letterbox.

"You and I both know that's not true, Mr Riddle," Stewart said. "I've been watching you lot. Owls flying in and out of your house? That blue box on your lawn? I'm not stupid, Mr Riddle."

"Yes, Stewart, I know that," Voldemort said, voice strangely high. "But what would you want with one of those old things, eh?"

"To help educate me," Stewart replied. "I can hardly wait four more years before starting my education."

There was a pause.

"What?" Voldemort asked.

"My education," Stewart repeated. "In the art of wizardry."

"So what you're trying to say is…"

"I'm a wizard." Stewart finished.

Voldemort's heart beat even faster, and every inch of him told him to turn and run. But he couldn't.

The faces of the Death Eaters were as white as sheets as they heard the news.

"But you can't control your magic yet," Voldemort said. "You're only seven."

"That, Mr Riddle," Stewart said, peering in at the letterbox. "Is why I want the book. I am hoping that it will help me control it."

"Well, I'm terribly sorry," Voldemort said, swallowing his fear and pulling out his wand. "But I can't let you have it."

And as fast as lightning, he had opened the door, shouted _'Accio book'_, grabbed the large volume and slammed the door before Stewart knew what had happened.

"I don't believe it!" Barty whispered desperately. "Stewart is a _wizard_?"

"He can't be," Voldemort shook his head, trying to convince himself as well as the others. "He just can't be."

"That was a very bad decision, Mr Riddle," Stewart said, quite calmly, voice slightly muffled by the door, but audible nonetheless.

The Death Eater froze in terror as he spoke.

"Well what are you going to do?" Voldemort asked, in awe at his own daring. "The book's in here, and you're out there."

"Well I suppose I'd better come in there and get it, then," Stewart said.

"You can't!" Voldemort crowed triumphantly. "All of the doors are locked!"

"Hang on a minute…" Rodolphus said slowly. "Where's my brother?"

They all looked around, but there was no sign of Rabastan anywhere.

"Last time I saw him," Dolohov said. "He was wearing aviator goggles and carrying a bed sheet, was heading out to the shed to get a ladder."

"The back door!" Lucius gasped.

The Death Eaters looked at each other, and then ran through the house as one to the back door. But no sooner had they got the door in their sights, had they skidded to a sudden stop, as Stewart Mallory had appeared outside the door, in all of his four foot glory, giving Voldemort a look that could have chilled the hearts of the bravest men.

"I want that book, Mr Riddle," he said dangerously.

"Well you can't have it!" Voldemort squeaked.

"I want that book," Stewart repeated slowly. "And _no one _is going to stop me from getting it, especially not you and your little band of clowns."

The Death Eaters gulped and took a simultaneous step backwards.

Stewart took a menacing step forward, but just as he was about to place one foot across the threshold, there came a loud cry of _'Geronimo!' _from above their heads, and a large mass of black robes and bed sheets leapt from the roof, right towards Stewart Mallory.

Stewart's face turned as white as a sheet, and he took a terrified jump backwards, only to step on one of Barty's stray rocketed roller skates.

Sensitive to touch, the roller skate zoomed off around the garden, whooshing loudly, accompanied by a loud chorus of yells from the seven year old boy standing on it.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters ran outside to watch, just as the rocketed roller skate hit a flower pot, and Stewart went soaring through the air, and landed with a resounding _'Splash!' _in the lily pond.

There was silence, and then the Death Eaters burst out laughing.

Rodolphus helped his brother out of the tangled mess of bed sheets and gave him a congratulatory slap on the back, whilst laughing helplessly.

"Damn good show, Rabastan!" Dolohov grinned.

Even the corners of Snape's mouth twitched slightly, as a bedraggled seven year old climbed out of the pond, dashed over to Rabastan and grabbed his robes.

"I'm sorry Mr Bird Man!" he said. "I'm not really a wizard! Please don't hurt me!"

Rabastan looked rather dumbfounded. Luckily, Rodolphus stepped in.

"The Bird Man says that he won't hurt you," he said. "As long as you go back home and never bother us again."

Stewart nodded eagerly.

"I won't, I promise!"

"Good," Rodolphus said. "Now GO!"

Stewart jumped, and dashed off.

It took a few minutes for the Death Eaters to regain composure.

"What was _that _about?" Barty asked, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"It seems," Snape said. "That young Stewart has a slight case of Ornithophobia." The others stared at him. Snape sighed. "He's afraid of birds. To him, Rabastan would have appeared rather bird like, dropping down from the roof, bed sheets billowing."

"Good work Rabastan!" Voldemort smirked.

"I think you deserve a cupcake for that," Lucius said.

Rabastan looked at them all for a moment, blinked, and then spoke.

"No thank you," he said, taking off the bed sheet which had been tied around his shoulders, before removing the aviator goggles, pulling off his shirt and trousers, revealing a pair of swimming trunks, pulling on a pair of flippers and swimming goggles which had been lying on the ground, and stepping into the lily pond, until he was up to his shoulders. "I need to look for my socks," he said, before popping a snorkel into his mouth and submerging completely under the water.

----

Well, there you go for everyone who hates Stewart Mallory (which includes me, actually!) The Death Eaters got their revenge!

Incidentally, who is everyone's favourite Death Eater in my fanfic?

I'm guessing a lot of you will say Barty, so how about who is your favourite _two _Death Eaters? Just out of interest, and so I can plan for later chapters.

And who's mine? Well, Barty of course, and I have to say that I have grown fond of Rabastan. He's just quite endearing in his own simple little way. :)

Anywho, next chapter coming soon!

Until then,

Red Gnome


	44. The DeathEaters get attacked by fangirls

I do apologise about the large space of time it has taken me to update, I have been stuck underneath a rather large garden shed lately, eventually managing to chew my way out

I also apologise in advance for the excessive use of 'Omigod' in the speech of certain new characters in this chapter, I thought it looked slightly more realistic than 'oh my god', which to me sounds a bit too much like Janice for my liking.

Anyway, here is the next chapter!

--

**The Death Eaters get attacked by fan girls**

It was a fairly quiet day at the local supermarket. Well, as quiet as it got on a Saturday morning. The usual monotonous trail of people made their way around the aisles on their weekly food shop, the monotony occasionally punctuated by the odd old lady causing unrest by whizzing around in a shopping trolley.

All in all, it was a fairly normal day.

Roger, the young counter attendant, found himself falling half asleep as the time ticked on and he began to dream about when the next pay cheque was due, and how he really needed to think about moving out of his parents house soon, and how he needed to go to the upcoming Star Trek convention, which was being hosted in that very town, and how annoying that incessant giggling was…

Roger turned his blank gaze to find the source of the giggling, and his eyes came to rest upon a group of teenage girls who were gathered around the magazine rack.

"Omigod, Emerson is soooo hot," one of them was saying.

"Omigod, no he isn't," one of her friends said. "Jamie is sooo much hotter."

"You can only hear his voice on Mugglecast!" Another friend piped up.

"So?" The other girl retorted. "It's a hot voice!"

Roger pulled his chewing gum out of his mouth and stuck it on the till, before pulling another strip out of his grubby trouser pocket, popping it into his mouth and beginning to chew, whilst vaguely wondering what 'Mugglecast' was.

Presently, as the hour turned to eleven, a slight unrest filled the supermarket, and everyone fell silent.

The shoppers, including the giggling girls at the magazine rack, turned to the doors, and watched with varying degrees of interest, apprehension, and disturbed curiosity as the automatic doors swung open to reveal nine figures, all in black, and one with no nose and pushing a trolley.

"I don't see why it was necessary to bring everyone along, my Lord," a tall, greasy haired, hooked nose man muttered.

"Because," the noseless one replied, in a lowered voice. "I need all the help I can get loading all of this jam into a trolley and getting out of here as quickly as possible. You know I don't like to make a scene."

"Of course you don't, my Lord," Snape replied dryly.

Voldemort ignored the poorly disguised streak of sarcasm in his minion's voice and glanced around at the muggles watching him.

"What are you all looking at?" he snapped.

The crowd of shoppers quickly looked away, resumed their shopping, and the usual buzz of voices continued.

"So," Voldemort said. "Everyone to the jam aisle at once, and grab as many jars as you can carry. Of _strawberry _jam, mind!"

His minions rushed off, and Voldemort glanced casually around him, before picking up a copy of '_Cosmo Girl_' and flicking through it.

It was not long before Lord Voldemort heard a chorus of giggling behind him. He dropped the magazine and spun around to see the group of teenage girls, all looking at him.

Voldemort gave them his trademark glare, and swept off.

-

"Now what _type _of strawberry jam do you want, my Lord?" Dolohov asked. "They have ones with bits in, or ones without."

"I don't care," Voldemort replied. "Just fill up that trolley! I want enough strawberry jam to last until Christmas!"

"Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort watched as his Death Eaters went about taking every jar of strawberry jam off the shelves and putting them into his trolley, whilst trying to work out a way of getting past all of the shop staff and out of the supermarket, trolley and all, without being seen.

He was not aware that he and his minions were being watched, by the group of teenage girls, peering through the gaps in the shelves from the aisle next door.

"Omigod," whispered one. "It's the Death Eaters. I don't actually believe it!"

"Look at Voldiekins!" whispered another. "He looks so much hotter in real life!"

Her friends gave her a variety of odd looks, before they turned their attention back to the Death Eaters.

"Omigod, it's Severus Snape!" One of the girls breathed, eyes resting on Snape, who was giving a strawberry jam jar a disdainful look.

One of the girls looked around, spotted one of the Death Eaters, and her jaw dropped.

"Omigod," she said. "Omigod, omigod, omi_god_!"

"What?" the others asked.

"Is that…" she said. "_Barty Crouch Junior_?"

"WHERE!?"

There was a slightly vicious scramble as the girls pushed each other out of the way to see through to the jam aisle. And indeed, there stood Barty, holding an open jam jar and attempting to pour some down the back of Wormtail's neck.

"I'm actually going to _die_!" sighed one of the girls.

Barty, on hearing this little exclamation, stopped what he was doing to glance around in search of the source of the noise, eyes eventually resting on the group of girls, all staring at him, one drooling slightly.

"Omigod, he's looking right at me!" sighed one of the girls. "With those _gorgeous _eyes…"

Barty raised an eyebrow.

"My Lord!" he cried. "We're being spied on!"

The girls gave a collective frightened gasp and ducked out of the way, so that when Voldemort came over and looked at where his minion was directing him, he saw nothing and no one.

"No one's there, Crouch," the Dark Lord said. "Stop wasting time. Now what goes best with jam?"

The Death Eaters shrugged. Voldemort gave an irate sigh.

"Well what do we put jam on?" he tried.

"Wormtail's head?" Barty suggested.

"No," Voldemort replied. "Bread! Everyone, to the bread section. Follow me!"

"They're going to the bread section," whispered one of the girls. "Follow them, quick!"

-

Even though his master had assured him several times that no one was there, Barty couldn't shake the constant feeling that they were being watched as they dutifully loaded loaves of bread into the trolley.

He glanced around suspiciously, on the verge of digging in his pocket for his wand.

"Crouch, get back to work!" Voldemort called over to him. "Emmerdale is on in twenty minutes and I want to get back in time to watch it!"

Barty rolled his eyes and walked back over to the bread shelves.

The girls, meanwhile, were watching the Death Eaters intently from behind the shelves of the aisle next to them.

"I love what Bella's done with her hair," one of them whispered.

"Yeah," another nodded. "I wonder how she does it."

"We should ask!"

"No!" one of them whispered. "We wait until they're all laden down with shopping bags, _then _we attack."

"Oh," one of them sighed. "I think I'm dreaming…"

The others glanced over at where she was looking, and saw Barty, back facing them, bending over to get some bread from the bottom shelf."

One of them pulled a pair of binoculars out of her pocket.

"Oh yes," she said. "Thank God for tight robes…"

"Let me see!" cried one of her comrades, as she snatched for the binoculars.

"No, let _me _see! It was my idea to come here!"

"No let _me_!"

Soon a violent struggle had erupted over the binoculars, and, as involved as Voldemort was with trying to get as much bread in the trolley as possible, even he couldn't fail to notice that Barty was right, they were indeed being spied on.

The Death Eaters temporarily abandoned their bread collecting to go and see what was going on. They turned the corner of the aisle, and regarded the group of girls, all battling for the binoculars, with nothing less than disdain and slight disturbance.

"Can we help you?" Voldemort asked.

The girls all stopped their struggling and looked up at the Death Eaters.

"Omigod…" one of them said, and started to fan herself.

"Breathe, Tiffany," one of her friends said.

"I think…" she said, tottering dazedly over to Barty. "I think I'm going to f-f…" she swooned and promptly collapsed on him.

"Ow!" Barty cried as he fell to the floor, 'fainted' fan girl on top of him. "My Lord! There's a muggle on me! Get it off!"

Voldemort gave the rest of the girls a dangerous look.

"I don't know who you are," he said. "Or what you want from us, but we would appreciate it if you were to leave us alone."

"We're fans of yours," one of the girls piped up. The others nodded eagerly.

"We love Death Eaters!" another agreed. "Can we join you?"

"My Lord," Snape said, gliding over to Voldemort. "Don't you think we have better things to do than listen to these young ladies, whose minds have been…" he glanced in disdain at the fan girl on top of Barty. "Clearly addled."

"She has NOT fainted!" Barty cried suddenly. "Her hand moved! Into a place that isn't that easy to reach by accident!"

Voldemort turned to the fan girls.

"Would it be too much trouble if you could tell your friend to stop molesting my minion?" he asked dryly.

"Tiffany, give it up," one of the fan girls obliged.

"Oh, ruin my fun why don't you, Penny," 'Tiffany' sighed and reluctantly stood up, winking at Barty, who jumped to his feet at once and brushed his robes down.

"I feel so violated," he shuddered, and hid behind Rodolphus.

"Thank you," Voldemort said. "Now if you don't mind, we were doing some shopping."

"Not any more, you're not," 'Penny' said.

Voldemort shot her an irritable look.

"And why not?"

"Because we've got your trolley." The fan girls smirked at the Death Eaters triumphantly, as one of their comrades appeared at the top of the aisle, with what was undeniably the Death Eater's trolley.

"You give that back RIGHT now!"

"One one condition!" Penny said.

"And what might that be?" Voldemort said through gritted teeth.

"We get Barty!" cried Tiffany.

"No, we get Snape!" cried another fan girl.

"No, Lucius!"

"No, Draco!"

The fan girls paused.

"Where is Draco?"

Penny sighed.

"The condition being…" she shot a dangerous look at her friends. " That you let us become Death Eaters."

"Absolutely not!" Voldemort cried. "That is the worst idea since blackberry jam!"

The girl shrugged.

"Fine, then there'll be no jam sandwiches for you!" and with that, the fan girls turned and dashed off up the aisle to where their comrade was standing with the trolley, and, trolley and all, ran off.

"AFTER THEM!" Voldemort cried, and the Death Eaters shot off in hot pursuit.

The fan girls ran as fast as they could with a heavily laden trolley, spinning round a corner and hurtling off down the cereal aisle.

The Death Eaters followed, Voldemort livid with fury.

"Natalie," Penny ordered. "Execute plan B1!"

Her comrade nodded, turned and knocked a whole row of cereal boxes off the shelf in a cardboard avalanche, blocking the way from their pursuers, before grinning at the Death Eaters and running off after the other fan girls.

"CURSES!" Voldemort cried, as the Death Eaters skidded to a stop in front of the cereal box mountain. "NOW what are we going to do?"

"Cut them off by the frozen food section!" Wormtail squeaked.

"Don't talk such nonsense, Wormtail," Voldemort said. "We need a _sensible _plan."

There was silence.

"Cut them off by the frozen food section!" Dolohov suggested.

"Brilliant idea, Dolohov!" Voldemort cried. "Onwards!"

-

The fan girls slowed beside the frozen food section, panting, and looked about them.

"Do you think we lost them?" One of them asked.

"Losing them isn't the idea," Penny said. "We need to evade them for long enough that they get desperate. You know how much Voldie loves his jam."

Tiffany leant against the trolley for support.

"Oh, I touched him…" she sighed. "I actually touched Barty Crouch Junior. Why can't we trade the trolley for him?"

"Because we don't _want _Barty!" cried Penny.

Her comrades gave a collective gasp and identical shocked and injured expressions appeared on their faces. Penny's eyes widened.

"I didn't mean that," she said reassuringly. "I just mean that if we can persuade Voldie to let us become Death Eaters, then not only do we get to see Barty the whole time, we also get to see the others. Natalie, don't you want to know how Bella does her hair?" Natalie gave a slow nod. "And Steph, wouldn't it be nice to be able to be with Snape every day?" 'Steph' inclined her head in agreement. "Well then. We have been planning for this moment for so long, are you really going to let our united dream slip away now, when it's so close we can almost touch it?"

"No," came the murmured reply.

"You're right, Penny," Tiffany said. "I'm sorry, I just got a bit carried away. It's just, he's so hot…"

Penny nodded and patted her friend on the shoulder.

"Be strong, Tiffany," she said. "If we play our cards right, we'll be in their ranks before you can say 'Death Eaters are sexy'."

"Oh will you now?"

The fan girls turned around on hearing the voice from behind them, and saw Voldemort, flanked by his minions, arms folded, giving the girls a look which would have struck fear into the hearts of many a man.

"Hand over the trolley… _now_." Voldemort said in his most menacingly calm voice.

"Not unless you let us become Death Eaters!" Penny replied resolvedly.

"My Lord," Rodolphus said timidly. "May I suggest just getting some more bread and jam?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lestrange," Voldemort spat. "All of the bread and jam in this supermarket is in that trolley, Emmerdale is on in five minutes and I will _not _be messed around by these muggles any longer!" he turned to the fan girls. "You give me that trolley, and you can have…" he looked about him thoughtfully. "Wormtail."

Wormtail looked up at his master in horror.

"Eeeeeww!" the fan girls said.

Voldemort glared at them, temper swiftly running thin.

"Look, just give me the trolley now!" he said.

"No!"

"I'll get it back for you my Lord," Rabastan said, stepping forward, brandishing his wand. "_Accio trolley!_"

Rodolphus's eyes widened.

"Rabastan, NO!"

But it was too late. The Death Eaters only just had enough time to jump out of the way, before the effects of Rabastan's spell caused the trolley to come zooming, full pelt towards him, and poor, well meaning Rabastan was quite knocked off his feet as he and the trolley went speeding out of the double doors, crashed into a pedestrian pillar and toppled over, right on top of the unfortunate Death Eater.

If the security guards hadn't been alerted by the trolley travelling at such an unauthorised speed around the shop, they certainly were now the alarms had been set off at unpaid for bread and jam leaving the premises. The security guards hurried to the scene as fast as they could, and saw nine robed people all gathered around an identically clad man stuck under the trolley, bread and jam scattered around them.

The fan girls strolled casually out of the supermarket. The security guards turned to them.

"One of our counter attendants informs us that you four were spotted with these shoplifters before the incident occurred. Do you know them?"

Penny took one look at the Death Eaters, and then back at the security guard.

"Never seen them before in our lives," she said calmly, and with that, they walked away. Before they could go, Tiffany dashed over to Barty, handed him a piece of paper with a phone number on and kissed him on the cheek.

"Call me," she said, and hurried off.

A disgusted look plastered itself over Barty's face.

"Urgh!" he exclaimed, wiping his cheek viciously.

"Rabastan!" Rodolphus said, taking his brother's hand. "Speak to me!"

Rabastan opened his eyes dazedly.

"Did… we get the trolley back?" he asked.

Rodolphus looked around at the thick set security guards, the mess of bread and jam around them and at his master who looked as though he was on the verge of tears, before giving his brother a smile.

"Yes we did," he said. "Good job, bro."

Rabastan smiled.

Snape sidled over to Voldemort, looking incredibly unphased, as usual.

"What were you saying about not liking to make a scene, my Lord?" he asked flatly.

"Oh, shut up Snape," Voldemort said through gritted teeth.

--

Deary me. Just when they had gotten rid of Stewart and all. :D

Never mind, eh?

I also apologise if any of you were offended about me taking the mick out of fan girls. I know for a fact that some of you are insanely obsessed with certain Death Eaters, and I don't have anything against that at all, honest! All I do is find things that I can turn into humour, and the stereotype of 'fan girl' seemed like quite a good one to try out. :)

Anyway, please review, I know this probably wasn't my best chapter, but give me your thoughts whatever they may be!

Ah, now here's a question, should the fan girls become recurring characters like Stewart was? What do you all think?

xx

PS. I actually cross my heart and hope to die stick a needle in my eye (I know, how old am I?) that I will most certainly not take nine months to update this fanfic again, I still feel insanely guilty about taking so long to write this one.

Blessings,

Red Gnome.


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